


Make Me a Wish, Dear Dragon

by Emiza



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative universe - Magus & Familiar, Domestic, Dragons, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiza/pseuds/Emiza
Summary: Genji was born a dragon. A monster of an ancient time, a familiar without a place amongst humans and magus.Few can survive his magic and even fewer can use it, always sought after by those who believe they can achieve greatness with him by their side. But a monster can only rise alongside a god.And in a world of humans, there is no room for deities.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea for so long, but never really got around to writing it and when I finally did, I rewrote it a couple of times before I got the feeling right. I also lost my confidence halfway through and entered a really strange state of writer’s block, where I could write but it didn’t feel like my writing. So that was fun. Still! I managed to finish this and I’m finally happy with the result! :)
> 
> I decided to divide it into two parts, because of its length. I also decided to post this during the gencyweek, part 1 for day 6 – dragon, and part 2 for day 7 – domestic.  
> Unlike the other long gency stories I’ve written, this one focuses mainly on Genji and doesn’t perhaps have a lot of the fairytale vibe. It’s a bit longer than my other stories, but it’s fun to experiment with lengths and such. 
> 
> Make sure to check out [this super sweet fanart](http://zeearts.tumblr.com/post/166134245595/) by [Zeearts](http://zeearts.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can find the rest of my fics/drabbles for the gencyweek [here on my tumblr](http://emiza.tumblr.com/tagged/Gencyweek2)!
> 
> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me.
> 
> Please enjoy!

In the beginning, there were monsters.

They roamed the earth and the skies, spit fire and venom, laid waste to the life they passed. They were remnants of stars, of a world so ancient one could never fathom its beginning nor its end, with stardust in their veins and magic tied to their souls. And in a world where no gods could possibly exist, they were their own deities.

How they disappeared, no one knows.

There are theories, some about diseases and meteors, a great fire consuming all. Other theories bind them to the world of the present, the idea that their stardust and magic grew too strong, too uncontrollable until it leaked into their skin and bones, ate them up from the inside more ruthless and unforgiving than any cataclysm.  

In the ashes of these great monsters and gods, humanity was born.

Magic still resided in their souls, a hint of stardust in their veins, but they would never be eaten from the inside by magic they could not control. Nature balanced them out, dividing the stardust from the magic. The gods from the monsters.

Those with magic in their souls were bound to these ancient monsters, long dead and long forgotten, and they lived on the border of humanity and something _primitive_. Some were great lizards with wings spreading wide, fire on their tongue and venom mixed with their blood. Others were hybrids and chimaera; the head of an eagle and the body of a lion, as dangerous as any predator.

They were the most powerful then, in the shape of a monster. When their magic could roam free, flaring like the fire of a burning star with every emotion; unstoppable and overwhelming to the point where it could no longer be controlled.

But those born with stardust in their veins could taste the magic, feel it at the tip of their fingers, at their very core with a tremble in their blood. Because their stardust was connected to that magic, pulled towards it, a desire deep within to connect.

Thus, humanity became depended on each other, for a monster could easily perish with their magic unattended. If they let it flare free with a wilderness that was soon forbidden. And through that connection, bonds were formed between the magic and the stardust, separated and yet whole when together.

More powerful than anything amongst the stars.

 

*

 

Civilization bloomed. Cities spread over the land, built by magic and stardust. And as the humans began to settle down, their lust for power awoke in their restlessness, a hint of evolution in the process as the stardust grew strong and the magic faltered in idle souls.

Because the world is forever in change, never the same from one day to another, a truth for humans and monsters alike. When stardust created a core of magic within their wielders, the monsters started to falter, no longer needed to the stardust that could now create magic of their own.

They started to forget.

The shapes of those ancient ancestors forgotten for the simplicity of animals they could see. Cats and dogs and birds of every kind stole the place of hybrids and chimaera.

Never quite as dangerous and never quite as powerful.

 

*

 

The cities fell and were rebuilt over and over during the course of history, through decay and wars, through rebirth and rediscovery. Languages were created, borders raised, kings and queens and leaders chosen by the people taking a hold of the power of the land, always in pair for no one dared to oppose a god with a monster at their side.

Those with magic and stardust received the name of _Magus,_ spoken in the common tongue. And the ones with magic bound to shapes of animals seemed so _familiar_ , always waiting in the shadows of those greater humans, and thus it became their title.

But soon, the stardust started to flicker. Some magus born with more stardust than others, and when their blood could no longer contain the dust, it coated their skin in a shimmer of glitter and tales of the universe.

In their greed, the magus abandoned their bonds to the familiars, confidence surging in their veins as they all sought to claim the world.

They created an imbalance, for familiars began to wither and fall in the absence of stardust by their side. But it would not last for long. For nature worked in a funny way, created something _powerless_ to balance the _powerful_.

And in the wake of magic, humans were born with no stardust in their veins and no magic binding their souls. Those _Regulars_ were first looked down upon in this world claimed by the powerful magus, hidden from sight with shame for giving birth to such an _abomination_. They were neither god nor monster, and thus they were feared for what they truly were.

Regulars claimed one third of their share of the world until they could no longer be hidden, too powerful in their own _humanity._ And they set out to make their own place in this constantly changing world, trying to change it themselves.

They became as natural as any magus or familiar, even though they couldn’t taste the magic in the air and couldn’t see the stardust upon skin. Their struggles soon only known in written history.

 

*

 

When the cities could rise no further, humans began to dig into the earth. Deeper and deeper, _Earth-shapers_ and regular inventions working together in unity, making a way for the future and discovering a long lost past.  

They started to find bones, hidden deep in rock and mountain, of monsters and beasts roaming a world long forgotten. Hints of stardust glistering in the fossils, the soft hum of magic.

And with the bones, stories and legends started to spread.

 

*

 

There were few families of magus and familiar that were ancient enough to remember The Ashes, a world before magic fluttered to life in the souls of magus. But the Shimada family remembered, a truth of their own whispered from parent to child until it became nothing more than a legend, told to make the little ones fall asleep on restless nights.

It spoke of two brothers, dragons in shape with both magic in their souls and stardust in their veins, who fought each other for power and glory. But in their war, they laid waste to the land. Feared by monsters and beasts, with no one strong enough nor brave enough to stand up to the raging dragons, they ruled undefeated and unaware of the consequences their actions brought.

With the fall of the monsters, they became human. They wandered the earth on two legs, rebuilding what they had once destroyed. Stardust in their veins and magic in their souls, until the day they were consumed by their own fires, eating away at their souls that laid the foundation of the Shimada.

And although their ancestors were familiars, it became unthinkable for a member to give birth to anything but a magus. The stardust was strong in their blood, pulsating in the very air, could lure out the magic of others so easily it could have been a child’s play. They yielded the strongest of magus, the ones who bent the laws of reality, the very rules of existence, always with a shimmer of dust upon their skin.

“Familiars are weak,” the children were told until they never thought of searching for a familiar of their own.

“A magus is stronger alone,” the parents repeated until the children could say the same, train even harder. 

“You are a _god_ , not a _monster_ ,” the children whispered under their breath as their magic burned in their veins, trying so _desperately_ to fight any weakness, _anything_ that could connect them to the beasts.

But those were only words.

Because even the most powerful of families could give birth to familiars and regulars, as was the law of nature. And no magus, no matter how powerful they might be, could ever break one of her laws.

Perhaps even the Shimada’s long history and great tree with branches reaching high towards the stars, had given birth to one or another regular, and more than a few familiars. But if they had once existed, they were erased from history. Their names never leaving sealed lips. Forgotten in time.

Sometimes, blood was the only trail that could be followed. Other times, there were bones, thrown into rivers and buried deep in sand, dark and scarred with magic before time and nature claimed them.

But sometimes, only sometimes, a familiar would survive the clutches of the Shimada’s bloody history.

 

*

 

He was born the day the pink cherry blossoms began to fall.

The air was humming of his magic, heavy with the scent of the first rain in spring and the richness of dark chocolate. It had followed the mother since it had become obvious she was expecting her second child, and her own stardust had reacted to the unborn child, gathering upon her stomach which she showed so proudly. Because there were no doubt; the child was a magus, as powerful as any Shimada was.

But when he was born, as silent as Death, there were no stardust coating his skin amongst the blood and mess.

“It’s a boy,” the mother was told, the warm bundle of life in her arms. “He is well and healthy.”

She was smiling in gratefulness over the wonder in her arms, too tired to notice the absence of stardust, too tired to notice the way her own dust reacted to her child. Pulling towards him, seeking the magic within.

But the doctors noticed. They saw the flick of a green tail, the yawn full of sharp teeth, the way it was suddenly a human child once again. And they had seen magus be born with stardust glimmering on their skin, regulars be born with nothing but screams. The only ones born in silence were the familiar.

They tried to warn her, whispered in soft voices so the father wouldn’t hear, standing just outside the door, waiting to come in and hold his son himself. Waiting to show his child to the world, to show just how strong the Shimada was with yet another magus born with his blood.

“There is no stardust.” The doctors shifted in nervousness.

“He might not be a magus.” A brave soul spoke up, truth behind his words coated in softness.

“Let us take care of him, before Master finds out.” They whispered with quick glances at the door, reaching for the child the mother only held closer to her chest.

The mother refused to believe, as any mother would when told that their child must die. She insisted time and time again that her son must be a magus, that his stardust just wasn’t strong enough to be visible, that it was simply hidden on the inside, that his core of magic was just slightly stronger, that there were many more excuses she could make before her breath began to falter.

But then the bundle in her arms moved.

Soft skin turned to scales, emerald green and glimmering brighter than any stardust, his magic a hum in his yawn full of teeth.

The mother could no longer deny the reality before her, the _monster_ in her arms. And so she wept for her child, knowing that she couldn’t protect him from what was to come. Knowing that she would try her best even if it would cost her own life.

Because there was no hiding from the fury of the father, the Master of the house and family, a magus so powerful he raised an empire from its ashes, his control stretching from one border to the next. Rumors had it that he could make the earth shatter with a single step, make the skies come crashing down with a flick of his wrist, extinguish the sun as easily as putting out a light. No one truly knew how far his power stretched, for there were no names for the things he could do.

And not even the doctors, desperate to protect the mother and yet forced to bend down to the Master, could keep him out from the room. There was a pause in the air when he first saw his child, second born and _familiar_ , and where the mother and the doctors had awaited roars and fire, he gave them nothing but silence. Yet, the longer he looked at his child, the more green scales and sharp teeth he saw, the more the very air around them trembled and quivered from his power and rage, his dear wife shrinking back and trying in vain to protect their child.

He was taken from her arms. Stolen and never fully returned. The Master took a single look, saw the familiar and saw the monster for what he was, knew that it wasn’t a magus and that he should take the fragile life before it had begun. Bury the child amongst rivers and sand, erase any trace of his existence with magic scarring the bones.

But in a world of human and animals, _monsters_ were rare. They were nothing but tales and legends, resurfaced once every century with the birth of a gryphon or a chimaera, of a phoenix or a hydra. Praised for their strength and beauty, they were known for their ability to end wars with a single roar and move mountains as easily as any magus could, to change the very perspective of reality and truth.

There were no stronger familiar than a monster.

And no one dared to oppose a god with a monster at their side.

_He can be_ _used_ , the father decided, saw a pawn in his arms and his to control, felt his stardust and his power _amplify_ in the very presence of his newborn. Wondered how powerful his son would be if he grew up as strong as his brother, and wondered even more with a thrill in his veins, how strong his eldest son would be with the help of a monster in the shadows.

A plan started to form, just like it had done for so many others who held life and power in their hands. The illusion of _divinity_.

Because the Shimada clan was only as strong as its Master, but he could not rule forever; there were no cheating Death. And so, long after he was dead and gone, his two sons would rule his empire together; as god and monster. Wielding every ounce of power possible to stretch their borders even further, across land and ocean, until there were no need for borders at all, until the clan’s name echoed through history more radiant than any other.

And so the fragile life was spared and the monster was given a name, the one thing that separated the living from the dead.

“He shall grow strong,” the Master spoke, a look in his eyes that made his wife wonder if perhaps Death would be more merciful than the faith laid out before their child.

He was given back to his mother’s arms, cold and shaking as the Master left the room, leaving his wife cradling their son close to her chest, gently stroking his skin and scales, whispering promises of protection and love. Knew that no promises and no magic of hers could possibly make a difference.

In her arms, Genji cried.

 

*

 

Growing up as a familiar was never easy, no matter which family they belonged to. For a familiar created magic from their emotions and thoughts, stored it in their body until they could burst, until their souls began to falter and weaken. Even as newly born, they were dependent on a magus to steal away that magic, to keep the cup empty to be refilled again and again.

His mother kept him close, hidden away in a room where no servants and no guards could enter. And the room was shivering of magic, stardust coating its walls and twirling around in the air like mundane particles of dust. It was a trial forced upon the mother that she had never asked for but accepted nonetheless.

She fought against sleep and fatigue, against the stern look of her husband, knowing that it was slowly killing her to take care of a monster.

And yet she accepted every outburst of emotion and magic until the stardust disappeared from her skin.

In that room, Genji grew up.

And just like every familiar, he was stronger in the shape of a monster.

He learned how to fly before he could crawl. Learned how to roar and spit fire before he could speak his first syllables. Learned that his emotions hurt his mother, saw the way she faltered when he screamed and saw the way she fell to the ground when he burst out in laughter.

He learned how to control them, to reel in his emotions until they were nothing more than a dull reminder in his chest, until he could fake a smile and make it seem real even though no happiness flared in his chest and created magic. For that kept his mother happy and warmth returned to her cheeks, stardust beginning to glister on her skin once again, until the next time the cup needed to be emptied and she would return to the pale image of the woman she was, suffering in silence for her son. All to keep him alive.

She never left that room, never saw the sun for years and never saw her other son.

But she never complained, a smile always present on her lips. And so, Genji saw no worries and smiled with her.

 

*

 

The first time Genji met his father and remembered it, he was five years old. As a dragon, he was large enough to wrap around his mother’s waist, and as a human he was still small enough to curl up in her lap as she read him bedtime stories of heroes and dragons and princesses.

Perhaps things would have been different if his father had entered upon such a scene, with Genji in his human form. But there were many _perhaps_ and _maybes_ and _what ifs_ in Genji’s childhood, and he learned quickly not to dwell on them.

For his father entered when Genji was up in the air, green body shimmering like water a sunny day, twirling around his mother’s shoulders as they played a silly game they would never play again after that.

Genji hadn’t known in that moment who the strange man was, knew only that the door was never to be opened. And as Genji paused to stare, his mother froze with fear in her eyes, pleas already falling from her lips.

Genji hadn’t known he wasn’t allowed to be in his familiar shape, knew not that he was a monster like those in the stories, the ones who stole princesses and devoured armies. That he was a faint memory of ancient times long passed, easier to be forgotten. Thus, he had seen nothing strange in it, hadn’t changed back into his human shape as soon as he could because he hadn’t _realized_.

Genji hadn’t known.

And so he was taught, through scales pulled from his body and magic burning on his back until it changed to skin and flesh with no green in sight, that he was a creature never to be shown until he could hide his magic so well it couldn’t be tasted in the air.

He would never forget how it burned and _burned_ , how his own magic was used against him to amplify his father’s, how his pain just made it all worse.

He tried not to cry afterwards, once the Master had left once again and his mother tried to heal his wounds through magic and spells she had never been taught. Whispers pressed against his skin with already fading scars that would be gone in the morning, tears wetting his hair as she apologized over and over again.

And now Genji understood why he was never to leave the room, why his mother wept for him with lies in her smile. Because he was a monster, never to be shown and never to be loved, hidden away from sight and from his father’s eyes.

Yet his mother cradled him close in her arms, radiating a warmth Genji would never taste again in years. “You need to be strong,” she told him, skin paler than before and shadows beneath her eyes, stardust gone from her skin. “Promise me that, Genji.”

Genji promised, drowsiness taking over his blood and limbs, clouding his mind as his mother put him to a dreamless sleep. Magic humming in the air.

 

*

 

When he woke up the next morning, his mother was nowhere to be found.

Stolen from his side and never to return.

 

*

 

He was raised by servants after that, ones with kind faces and smiles, their stardust weak and their magic weaker. Genji learned quickly how to keep his emotions, his own magic, in control near them, for they could not take the intensity and the heat. They were drawn to him like moths to a flame, like stardust to magic, but if they got too close they would be burned.

And when they were burned, Genji was punished.

But he was never lonely, servants always by his side, and when the time came when he had stored up too much magic, someone strong with stardust upon their skin would come visit. Lights flashing in the room, the walls bending, air _trembling_. Then the magus was gone, never to visit again.

Genji was never sure where his magic went, what it was ever spent on.

He lived in a state of confusion and uncertainty, not fully knowing if he could trust these servants, for he heard whispers and rumors when they thought he didn’t listen and couldn’t hear. And although he never showed them his form of green scales and sharp teeth, they still whispered of _power_ and _monster_. A familiar, and yet so _unfamiliar_.

They began teaching him things. Not like his mother, never like his mother, for they taught him discipline and order. How to sit up with a back straight for hours without faltering. How to write with his right hand instead of his left, letters shaky as he learnt how to spell and write poems so dreadful his mother would’ve laughed.

They taught him how to fit into his role of the second son of the Shimada, a title he had never heard and never wanted, but was forced into without a say.

And all the while, during the long nights of studying history and during the long days of mindless meditation, his mother’s words echoed within him. The promise he would never break.

“ _Be strong_.”

 

*

 

He never had any thoughts of escaping because he never had any reason to.

He was never taught about the world outside, knew only that _The_ _Outside_ was a place where he was not allowed.

He had never known any other life than the one he had.

So how could he possibly want to escape it?

 

*

 

The first time Genji saw the sun, he was seven years old.

It was the first time he was allowed to leave his room, dressed up in heavy robes and hair tied back, led by servants and guards alike, faces he had never seen before. And he found that the air outside the room was _different_ ; fresh on his tongue and chilling in his lungs, always in circulation. _And_ , he noted as he took deep gulping breaths as if it was the first time he was breathing, _there was no magic suffocating him_.

It was like walking in an alien world, experiencing everything for the first time. The crunch of fine white sand beneath his sandals. The wind rustling in the trees. The sun warming his skin and bringing forth color upon his cheeks, reminding him so much of his mother’s embrace.

And yet he was not allowed to stop and look, to stand still as the wind gripped his clothes and hair, to close his eyes and tilt his head up towards the sky. The guards and servants did not speak as they ushered him forward, kept him on the path.

He dared a glance back, stolen with a fluttering heart of _curiosity_ , the emotion burning dull in his chest so _new_ and _fragile_. He didn’t notice how one of the servants faltered by his side, almost falling to the ground from the way magic started to twirl in the air. Because Genji could only see the small house, the single place he had known in his life, so small and insignificant compared to the houses and buildings ahead of him.

And he couldn’t help but wonder why he had been let out now, when he had never been allowed before. He knew _why_ he had been locked up, remembered scales pulled from his body and the unforgiving coldness of his father’s eyes, even though he had never heard the _reason_. _Why_ he was forced to keep to that room, _why_ he was never to show his familiar shape, _why_ his mother was stolen from him.

So why was he in _The Outside_ now, when a monster like him deserved to be hidden away?

Tugging at the sleeve of the servant in front of him, he spoke with an uncertainty in his voice. “Where are you taking me?”

The servant snatched his arm back, sleeve slipping from Genji’s fingers, but the child pressed still. “Why am I let outside?”

The servants exchanged looks, lips thin lines upon their faces as fear flashed in their eyes, knowing the answer but refusing to tell him. And Genji felt dread fill him, a fear of his own starting as a dull fluttering in his stomach. Because the longer he thought of it, the more obvious it became.

There was only one reason why he would be let outside, guarded as if he would even _think_ of escaping, dressed up in silken robes and forced to keep his back straight. Presented as the second son of the Shimada, no trace of the green scales and sharp teeth underneath.

“Hey,” he whispered, couldn’t possibly keep his voice loud and steady, couldn’t mask the fear that made the servants around him tremble. “Are you taking me to my father?”

Once again, there was no answer, and once again, the servants and guards exchanged looks. Stardust began to twirl in the air around them, faint but still there, bitter like dark coffee on Genji’s tongue. Defensive. Ready to attack.

And Genji had to force his emotions down, his own fear to settle despite how impossible it would seem. Because he feared his father, yes, but he feared him more so when he was enraged, and thus Genji had to act like he had been taught without any complications. Back straight, chin held high, not a single glance down on the ground despite the fine white rocks that caught his attention.

He kept silent the rest of the walk, tried not to look around too much, tried not to stare at the new colors and the unfamiliar faces of servants and guards around him, rushing from one place to another.

The stardust in the air settled down, the guards beginning to relax when they realized Genji wasn’t a threat. But the more they relaxed, the tenser Genji grew, for the building they entered was strange and large and unfamiliar. Too cold and empty to be a home. Even the cage he had been trapped in for all his life, filled with magic and stardust that suffocated him without him even realizing it, seemed better in comparison.

By the time they reached a smaller room, where Genji was forced to remove his sandals and follow a strict code of etiquette, he was already trembling slightly.

He was told to sit down on the floor, on one of the plushy cushions, and he followed without questioning or complaint. Back straight, hands resting in his lap, gaze forward. Just like he had been taught.

_Perhaps_ , he hoped with a false sense of security as the minutes ticked by with no one entering or leaving the room, _this was just a part of the training_.

But then the door opened and a boy wearing an uncanny resemblance to Genji’s mother walked in. He didn’t pause when their eyes met and he didn’t make a comment at the way Genji’s lower lip trembled and the way his eyes watered.

He crossed the room, as silently as anyone could, and sat down next to Genji on a plushy cushion of his own. Back straight, hands in lap, gaze lowered. Stardust glistering on his skin, dusting his cheeks, moving slightly in reaction to Genji’s magic that suddenly seemed _wild_ within him, his emotions raging just under the surface with confusion and _oh so many questions_ and yet being forced to keep silent for the boy did not speak, and so he shouldn’t either.

He took a deep breath, tried to regain control over his emotions, to reel them in and not let them roam free. For he did not know how strong the magus next to him was, how much magic in the air he could take before he fainted like any weak servant did.

When his father finally entered, there was barely any trace of his magic left.

Without a word, the Master of the Shimdada clan took a seat across from the young boys, one who kept his gaze on the floor and the other who stared in silent fear that he tried so desperately to swallow down.

And then the Master spoke.

“Hanzo, you have come far in your training.” A pause, the boy at Genji’s side glancing up with a nod before his gaze returned to the floor. “From today on, you will train alongside your brother to enhance your magic and to prepare for your future rule.”

A chill ran down Genji’s spine as he started to understand, his questions answered in a cold voice that awoke old wounds no longer visible on his skin. And the more pieces of the puzzle that fell into place, the deeper the dread settled in his stomach.

“Genji,” the Master continued, dark eyes meeting Genji’s and suddenly it was hard to breathe, to move, to _blink_. “You will live in the house, now that you have learned to control your emotions. Your education will continue and you will learn how to combine with a magus.” There was a pause and Genji somehow managed to take a breath. “One day, you will help Hanzo rule.”

Perhaps it had been appropriate then to say something then, to give a nod or some sort of understanding. But all Genji could do was glance over at his brother, a part of his family he never knew he had. A brother he was meant to help, for that was now Genji’s purpose. Perhaps that was why he had been born in the first place.

Or perhaps why he had been kept alive.

Their father rose, hands clasped behind his back and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. “I hope not to be disappointed.”

And with that, he left the room through the door he had entered. Immediately, Genji found it easier to breathe, gulped down a breath as he clutched his hands in his lap to hide their trembling, because the last thing he wanted was for his brother to see how weak he truly was.

But Hanzo made no such comment, simply stood up from the floor. Genji noticed how his hands were trembling too.

“It’s his magic,” Hanzo spoke, voice gentle. “It’s a bit overpowering. It takes time to get used to it.”

Genji nodded, standing up on trembling legs, giving Hanzo one of those practiced smiles that generated no magic and made no harm. As he followed his brother out through the same door their father had used, he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would truly take to get used to his father’s magic. And the fear that always followed.

 

*

 

Hanzo showed him the place Genji was supposed to call _home_ , and it was a maze of hallways and rooms he wasn’t allowed to enter and places a son of the Shimada would never set his foot in, for he was no servant.

He could explore the main building unhindered, unable to keep his amazement in check most of the time, leaving a trail of magic that was easy to follow for anyone who might try to. But as soon as he exited into the courtyard and gardens, a guard was immediately by his side.

The guards rarely spoke, only opened their mouths to warn Genji not to stray too far or go too close to the main gates, even though the large gates drew his attention for there were dragons carved from the wood and it was the first time Genji had seen anything like himself that was not in a child’s book.

It took a week for him to find his way to the bathroom and not get lost, and it took yet another week before he could be on time to attend Hanzo’s lessons.

The lessons were interesting in their own way, even though all Genji was instructed to do was to sit still, to not move a muscle, and to tune his magic to Hanzo’s stardust. Things were easier said than done, and he was never quite sure if he got it right or not, but those worries were easily forgotten when he saw how his brother _moved_ , the way the stardust twirled around him in the air as he created fire from his fingers and drew heavy clouds upon the open sky to create rain.

It was pure wonder to Genji, who _saw_ magic for the first time. Saw how it shaped the world around them, led through the stardust of a magus, and as he watched his brother grow stronger and stronger during the months to follow, it was no longer hard to believe that their father could end a life with a mere snap of his fingers.

Soon, he guessed, Hanzo could do the same.

 

*

 

They began to talk, Hanzo and him, the night when a storm raged so furiously no magus dared to interfere with nature’s temper.

Genji had never liked storms. He had been able to endure it in the small room he had spent the first years of his life in, but in his new room, the windows rattled and the branches of the tree just outside _snapped_ and _cracked_ with every gust. His mind began painting shapes and figures in the dark, lit up by lightning alone.

It wasn’t hard to find Hanzo’s room, just down the hallway, and there was not a sound of Genji’s bare feet as he stumbled towards the door, his thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and dragging on the floor.

Hanzo opened after the first careful knock, and Genji guessed he couldn’t sleep either. Perhaps that was why neither of them spoke at first as they curled up together in the bed underneath two layers of blankets of safety and warmth, and only when the world no longer seemed so frightening did Genji break the silence.

“Can’t you stop the storm?”

It was a small plea for mercy, for in Genji’s eyes magic could solve everything. He had seen it, saw it every day in how the servants swept the floor with a broom moving on its own and how the guards stopped trespassers before they even came onto the grounds.

But Hanzo shook his head, the stardust upon his cheeks twinkling in the light of yet another flash.

“It does not work that way,” he answered and when Genji frowned at him, he gave a soft sigh. “Every magus specialize in _something_. Something their stardust is more tuned to and a magus specialized in their area is the most powerful magus of them all. To stop a storm like this, you would need a skilled weather-magus or a _Storm-catcher_.”

“And what do you specialize in?”

There was a pause. An uncomfortable shift.

“I don’t.”

Genji’s frown deepened, teeth sinking into his lower lip and he began to chew as he tried to figure it out. “But you just said-“

“Father don’t believe in specializations,” Hanzo quickly interrupted, as if Genji had never spoken in the first place. “Besides, Master says that a magus’ specialization is something that sometimes show itself later in life. In some cases, never at all.”

They fell back into silence, listening together to the roar of the storm outside, and Genji was young and inexperienced and didn’t think too much of Hanzo’s words. Didn’t know that a specialization normally shows itself the first years of a magus’ life. Didn’t know how much of a _failure_ his brother felt like, and yet how relieved Hanzo was to escape the pain of disappointing his father in yet another subject. For a great magus needed not a familiar nor a specialization.

“But you are _strong_. The strongest magus I know,” Genji said instead, frown smoothing out as he came up with a plan, a great _idea_. “Master said my magic is strong too! You can use that, can’t you?! And then you can stop the storm, even if you aren’t a Storm-catcher!”

And Hanzo stared blankly at him for a moment before a soft laughter filled the air, and he was quickly to cover his mouth even though he couldn’t stifle the sound. Genji only looked at him, perplexed as to what he had said that could’ve been that funny.

“There are many things you don’t know.” Hanzo placed a hand on top of Genji’s head, ruffling his hair to his brother’s displeasure. “You are not tuned to my stardust, not the way it should be, despite how Master finds it acceptable. And even if you were, even if we were perfectly tuned to each other, I still would not be able to control the storms. There are simply some things even all the magic in the world can’t do.”

Genji nodded, trying to understand matters that made little to no sense to him, for he lived in a world where magic was real and where it could solve any problem. Even storms.

It didn’t take long until Hanzo spoke up again.

“Lend me some of your magic,” he whispered, fingers closing around Genji’s. “I can’t control the storms, but I can do something else.”

And so Genji let the control of his emotions slip, if only a little, lending Hanzo just enough magic to close out any sound from the room. Finally allowing them an easy sleep.

 

*

 

As they grew older, their training became harsher.

They were pushed to the brink of what they could do, of what they could make _possible_.

And where Hanzo faltered with exhaustion, stardust no longer coating his skin and the air _trembling_ , Genji sat by to the side and let his magic be drained ever so slightly. Chewing on his lower lip, wondering what they’ll be served for dinner that evening.

Completely unfazed where other familiars would bend and break.

 

*

 

There came a short period of time before Genji turned 13, where Hanzo grew weak from overexerting himself.

Of course, it wasn’t Genji’s fault, but he felt guilty nonetheless. As if there was something he could do, something he could’ve done or _should’ve_ done differently.

But Hanzo was bedridden, face pale with no stardust upon his cheeks. He reminded Genji of their mother, in those moments after she had eased his magic into the air and allowed him to live for a bit longer. It was scary, in a way, to see his older brother so weak even though he knew Hanzo could be so strong.

Genji didn’t leave his side.

He read him stories, childish ones about monsters and princesses because those were the only stories he knew. And Hanzo would comment on them, point out that they were too unrealistic, even though he always huffed and puffed whenever Genji threatened to stop reading.

And then, on the third day with still no stardust in the air, Genji put down the book in his lap, head leaning back onto the edge of the bed.

“Mother used to tell me that if my magic isn’t used, I die. Like a cup filled with water until it pours over the edges,” he began, voice low, emotions hidden. “Is that what’s happening to you? Is your magic core being corrupted?”

At first, Hanzo didn’t answer, and Genji didn’t dare to look up on him from his position on the floor. And perhaps Genji had been stupid for asking, for he couldn’t possibly want to hear the grim news, that the same faith their mother had suffered now awaited Hanzo.

“ _Stupid_ ,” Hanzo huffed, the rustling of sheets as he sat up in the bed, even though how painful it must’ve been to move. All to place a hand on top of Genji’s head, ruffling his hair. “I’m not a familiar like you. I can’t die from my magic being kept too long and I can’t die from it being used. Our cores, magus’ cores, are a cup always half-empty; it can’t be filled up like yours and it can’t be emptied.”

Genji hummed, ducking under the hand and decided that if Hanzo could still lecture him and still tease him, then he was surely going to live.

“But it happened to mother.”

It was never a subject they spoke of, the topic taboo to even get near, but the words had slipped from Genji’s lips before he could hinder them. His fear expressing itself in other forms than magic.

“It was different for her and it is different from me,” came the patient answer still, no malice in the voice for talking about a mother Hanzo never truly knew. “If a magus uses too much of their power over a short amount of time, they can fall ill. Like I have. Allow no time for recovery and…”

He trailed off and yet he didn’t need to say more.

“Isn’t there a way then?” Genji murmured, a question not meant to be answered, one he had asked himself many times before. For surely there must be a solution to everything, in a world where magic existed. But perhaps, just like with storms, it needed a _specialist_.

Above him, Hanzo huffed. “Of course there is! _Recovery is key_ , is what the Healers said! There’s even a solution for familiar like you, if your core gets corrupted.” A pause, Genji turning to blink up at him with owlish eyes. “A magus can remove your magical core altogether and you’d live on as a regular.”

“A regular? Like, those without magic?” Genji tilted his head to the side, gaze lowering to the floor. “It seems like a cruel faith.”

And Hanzo nodded, for all the brothers had known were magic in their veins and stardust upon their skin.

“The cruelest faith of all.”

 

*

 

Hanzo regained his stardust only a day later, and was back on his feet and back into training as if nothing had ever happened.

And their daily routine continued.

 

*

 

Two years later, at the age of 15, Genji learned that the world was much larger than he had originally thought.

It was their Master’s idea, and how he had made their father accept it, they didn’t know and couldn’t possibly figure out. He woke them early that day, told them to dress in strange clothes unlike their regular kimono, with material that felt raw and unused to the skin.

And then, when the sun parted from the horizon, they exited the main gates.

Genji had fantasized about it, how the outside would look like, had figured early on that there _was_ an outside behind those gates. But he had guessed it would be more large buildings and sloping roofs, with every door guarded and with servants rushing about.

But now, as he stared at the busy street of Hanamura, there were no guards nor servants in sight. Unfamiliar faces passed them by. Magic and stardust in the air, mixed together in a mess that tasted fresh and bitter and sour and sweet upon Genji’s tongue and it felt like he was tasting magic for the first time. The mix of so many familiar and magus, and he could only guess that there were regulars too, invisible in the air of magic but there nonetheless and able to breathe without pause.

They blended in as if they had always belonged there, simply because of their clothes and not because of Genji’s wide-eyed staring. Hanzo kept his façade up, the one he had been taught since birth and which was different than the one Genji had been taught, and yet he couldn’t hide how his gaze lingered on the people and the colors, how he perked up at every new sound and smell.

“This is the next part of your training, for today only,” their Master spoke as they wandered seemingly aimlessly on the streets. “To see reality for what it is.”

Messy. Uncoordinated. Heavy. A mixture of magus, familiar and regulars.

Perhaps they were meant to dislike it, from the way their Master spoke with a wrinkled nose and from the way it was so _different_ from their home and how they grew up. Perhaps they were meant to _hate_ it, to _despise_ this mess, and never want to return.

Genji loved it.

He loved the _colors_ , from the flashy neon ones that were new to the eye that blinked above the arcade and the shops, to the soft pastel colors of dyed hair and frilly clothes.

He loved the _sounds_ , from the steady bass slipping from headphones, to the steady chatter of passerby’s whom he could never be sure were magus or familiar or regular unless he could see bright feathers or soft fur or stared back into the eyes of a cat.

He loved the _scents_ , from the delicious aroma of food that made his stomach growl on its own, to the strange sensation of perfume mixed with sweat and _human_.

But above all else, he loved the freedom. To be able to be whomever he wanted in this sea of anonymity and unfamiliar faces, to be that unsure point of it all that made people _guess_ if he was magus or familiar and yet not being punished for it.

He breathed it in, seeing the world for the first time, and something seemed to awake within him. And he decided when they returned home late in the evening, behind the large gates closing off that freedom, that he wanted it back.

 

*

 

His home was a cage for a bird whose wings were not yet cut.

And so Genji spread those wings and began climbing the tall walls. He already knew how the guards moved, where they didn’t look, and he quickly learned that secrets were better than any payment for any guard who accidentally turned and saw him.

It didn’t take many days before he found his way around the busy streets, felt more welcome and more at home amongst the mess of people.

And on his third day outside, he found his way back to the arcade with the neon signs and promises of excitement. He entered with wide eyes and a silly smile on his lips, not so subtly glancing over shoulders to see the games and there were so _many_ that Genji didn’t even know where to start.

He wasn’t any good at the games. Not in the beginning. But the more he played and the more money he spent, the better he became and after hours upon hours in the arcade, everyone knew the name that topped every scoreboard. They all knew of the stranger always carrying the light air of magic, heavy with the scent of the first rain in spring and the richness of dark chocolate, but no one ever knew _where_ he came from or where he disappeared to after a bowl of ramen.

He made his first friend there, in the arcade.

Approached one evening by a regular with freckles upon his cheeks that reminded Genji of stardust but _wasn’t_ , who could never guess how strong Genji truly was because to him there were no rain and no chocolate in the air.

They started spending time together. Played games in the arcade and shared a bowl of ramen before Genji disappeared. And Genji found that sharing time with someone else, to share the joy of winning a game or the happiness of eating something delicious, was better than doing it all on your own.

The duo soon became a trio when a magus joined them one day, a girl their age with a nick for foretelling, but was only able to see 5 seconds into the future. And soon the trio became a group as more and more joined them, drawn in by the magic surrounding Genji and drawn in by his smiles and laughter.

It was dangerous, Genji knew, for weaker magus to be around him too much. Could sometimes see his magus friends get drunk on his magic when he accidentally let it slip ever so slightly. Never enough to do any harm.

They had a good laugh at it whenever someone tripped over their own feet, lost in the scent of rain and chocolate, or whenever someone leaned heavily on Genji and trying to bury their nose in his neck. He knew it was only the effects of his magic, never able to fully hide it in the outside, and yet he found he didn’t dislike the closeness at all.

After it happened the third time and the magus excused herself with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, Genji laughed and began to welcome it.

 

*

 

Ever so slightly, Genji began to change.

To his friends, it wasn’t necessarily noticeable, for they saw the change firsthand. He became more approachable with warmer smiles and laughter that filled the room and made everyone crave to join him. He gained confidence, sometimes bordering on _arrogant_ whenever he won a game against a Seer, but it made him more relaxed and even more striking than before to the point where he was never seen on the streets without his friends.

In the castle, it was different.

Hanzo began growing restless, _angry_ even, with how Genji could skip lesson after lesson without punishment, had to work harder to compensate where Genji’s magic before had made it _so easy_. Whenever he saw Genji, in the early mornings before he sneaked out or in the late evenings after he had just come back, he could barely recognize his brother.

For Genji had taken a liking to the freedom they were never offered and he was allowed to change with it.

Hanzo could not.

 

*

 

It was only a matter of time before he was caught.

As it would happen, it was neither by a guard he couldn’t pay with secrets nor a servant who wandered where they shouldn’t. It was by someone far more dangerous.

“You are abandoning your duties.”

Startled, Genji lost his grip on the wall, sliding down and landing swiftly on his feet, glad he hadn’t gotten further up. But that voice sent chills down his spine, a coldness taking over the air and he could see the shimmer of stardust.

Slowly, he turned to face his father.

He said nothing, for what could he possibly say to justify his behavior to the man who _loathed_ his very existence. Yet his insides were _itching_ , chasing away the fear through restlessness, the need to return to the outside to his friends and _safety_.

And he found himself fighting not only the control over his emotions and magic, but over his instincts as well. The ones that _roared_ at him to flee, to turn into green scales and sharp claws, to fly rather than climb over the high wall.

His father simply looked at him. A lingering stare at his dark eyes and the softness of his chin; features carried down from a mother long lost. Perhaps it was a trick of the light then, the way the morning sun played with the inky black of Genji’s hair and brought forth the golden brown of his eyes, but his father could only see someone else in the place of his son.

It was then, as he saw the woman he fell in love with so many years ago and whom he had seen claimed by Death and unable to lift a finger in her defense, that his heart melted even though it seemed to be made of stone and ice.

And then he spoke.

“Take a good look on the outside world and your _friends_ ,” the Master of the Shimada clan spoke, voice softer than a scolding. “See how much stronger you are, how better you are than the ones weak enough to falter in your presence. Learn your place, _Sparrow_.”

There was no punishment, no scales pulled from his body and no blood spilt where Genji had expected there to be. He stared after his father as the Master turned to leave, giving him a silent permission to venture outside again.

With a grin upon his lips and a humming thrill in his chest, Genji began climbing once again. Seizing the moment he was given before his father changed his mind.

 

*

 

Genji had always pitied the regulars, the ones who felt no magic and saw no stardust for they had no connection to either.

But it was different for the regulars, because just like Genji had never desired freedom until he had learnt its name and breathed it in, the ones without magic nor stardust never spent their thoughts on it. Yet they sometimes asked Genji, curious whispers when no one else could hear because Genji always asked stupid questions and so it was safe to ask him the same kind, and they wondered how it _felt_ , what it _tasted_ like, what stardust looked like glittering in the air and catching the light.

“Stardust,” he told them then, lingering gazes upon the magus of their group, the few ones with stardust upon their skin, “Looks like gold and is finer than any other dust you can find. You can’t catch it, even if you tried, for it slips through your fingers so easily. Yet it sticks to a magus’ skin, only leaving them when used or when drawn to a familiar.”

And he told them that there were no stardust upon his skin, no, and his regular friends knew then that he must be a familiar. Questions raining down upon him which animal he was connected to, what kind of shape and color he would gain, what it felt like to change and if it hurt or if it was exhausting. What it felt like to _combine_.

Those questions, he could never answer.

But there was a way for a regular to experience those things for themselves, Genji came to learn one day as a regular held up a stone in the air and declared with a swelling pride, “It is my birthday present!” While the other regular let out sounds of jealousy, the magus and familiar laughed at the sidelines, watching in amusement like a parent would watch their child who had finally learned how to stand by themselves.

The stone was passed around amongst the curious hands of the regular, never pausing for too long for its owner was afraid of _something_ if it lingered, if the regulars held it too tightly or if they spoke with conviction. And then it was placed in Genji’s hand, for he did not stand by to the side, and he felt its warmth and its _hum_.

He recognized it immediately, amongst the clear golden color he had seen so many times on his brother’s cheeks and on the hands of the guards.

“Stardust,” he breathed, twisted the stone over and felt its smooth surface, looking as artificial and as expensive as any gem. “And magic.”

“It’s a wish-stone,” he was told amongst wide grins and bright eyes. “It’s made by a _Wish-maker_ , the most powerful magus of them all!”

“They bind magic and stardust together, giving it a physical shape,” he was told while the stone continued its path back to its owner. “It’s a spell, dormant and ready to be used by anyone.”

“It’s the only magical thing a regular can see and touch,” he was told as the stone returned to a secure pocket, hidden way from sight. “And it’s the only magical thing we can use and _feel_.”

And he was told that those stones, as beautiful as they looked, were amongst the most expensive objects in the world due to the skill it took to create them and due to the magic and stardust the stones demanded. For unlike the common magus, a Wish-maker was in a league of their own.

A Wish-maker held onto their heritage from the ancient times, keeping it closer to heart than most. And while a familiar in the shape of a dragon was a monster, a Wish-maker truly was a god.

 

*

 

Whenever Genji returned home, the sun had always set hours ago and the streetlamps guided his way until he entered the castle grounds. Then, the stars became visible in the sky.

He very rarely met anyone on his way to his room. Sometimes, he would bump into a servant or bow under the watchful eye of a guard before they could smell rain and chocolate in the air surrounding him.

He liked it like that, to sneak in and out like a ghost. Undisturbed and unhindered.

That was why he slowed down his steps when he saw that the lights were on in his room, when he saw the shadow moving beneath the door.

Perhaps a servant, he guessed and knew that no servant had the permission to enter his room at this time.

Perhaps a guard, he guessed and knew that no guard would ever enter a room uninvited.

Perhaps someone _dangerous_ , he guessed and remembered poison and fire and assassins from stories he had heard as a child.

With a heart beating fast and hard in his chest, the rage of the dragon near at hand, he opened the door.

But there were no servant or guard or assassin in his room. Instead, he met the eyes of his mother’s as Hanzo glared at him.

“You should stop sneaking out,” he said with a snarl and a warning in his voice, and Genji had never heard his brother speak that way. He wondered when his voice had gotten so deep, lost its childlike tune and gained the baritone instead. Wondered when he had started to grow that stubble upon his chin, still uneven and new. Wondered why there were no stardust upon his cheeks.

“I should stop?” Genji huffed, closed the door and acted with the confidence he had learned since he met his friends. And he had a feeling he would need all the confidence he could gather in front of this _stranger_. “Do you even miss me when I’m gone?”

“You skip our lessons and are abandoning your duties as a Shimada!” Hanzo growled at him, fingers flexing where he held them close to his chest, partly hidden underneath a long sleeve.

Wrapped in bandage.

Genji took a stumbling step forward, body numb and thoughts running wild in his mind as he stared at the hands. Because he didn’t recognize the dark voice and the stubble and the lack of stardust. But this? This was different.

He reached out, wanting to help. “Hanzo, your hands-“

And Hanzo flinched back, quickly trying to pull down the sleeves even further, eyes wide for but a moment before they filled with rage and emotions Genji would never hope to learn for he could never experience them himself without anyone getting hurt. But his movements were jerky and slow despite his haste, pain edging every flinch.

Genji took another step forward. “What happened?”

“Your _sneaking out_ happened,” Hanzo all but spat, giving up on trying to hide his hands, and there was a moment of silence where they just stared at each other. Brothers who once had shared a bed due to fear of a storm. Brothers who had once trained side by side so effortlessly.

_What happened?_

“Hanzo-“

But the older brother turned away, refused to look him in the eye. There was a tremble in his shoulders.

“I am training directly under father now.” A deep breath. “Have fun with your _friends_.”

With that, Hanzo pushed past Genji and walked out of the room. And Genji didn’t know any healing spells because he was no magus, but he would’ve lent his magic to Hanzo, would’ve whispered to him that he was sorry, and would’ve made empty promises to try and stick around a bit more and shoulder a bit more responsibility.

But he didn’t.

 

*

 

Genji stopped returning home.

His friends welcomed him with open arms and many question, none of which received answers.

 

*

 

Genji lost many things over the next year.

His first kiss was lost to a magus with wind at her fingertips, who begged him to combine with him if only to feel the rain and chocolate upon her tongue.

His second kiss was stolen by a regular and his first friend, eyelashes fluttering upon freckled cheeks, and he was the one who made Genji realize that he quite liked kisses.

But his third kiss and the ones that followed were given to a magus, a _Light-bringer_ and a tourist who stumbled into _Rikimaru_ one evening and tried her hardest to order food in a language Genji had never heard before. Carrying the scent of lemons and merengue, the sweetness of a dessert.

She was the first one he fell for, fast and hard and unable to get up again. And she was the first magus outside of his home that he combined with, on the night he lost his virginity. They filled the room with small orbs of light from their pleasure and for the first time Genji felt a _scratching_ underneath his skin as his magic was used.

A light pull from within.

And when the Light-bringer left Hanamura to never return, she had stolen his heart and her name upon his lips.

His heart, he regained.

But her name was soon forgotten amongst so many others’ as Genji learned how to share a bed with men and women alike, with regulars and magus and familiars. And when they weren’t enough, never enough for his addiction of touch and closeness, he found his way to brothels.

His name soon known on every tongue.

 

*

 

At the beginning of spring just before the cherry blossoms would start their bloom, a servant found him in the arcade, knocked on his shoulder when he didn’t answer to _Young Master Shimada_ , and he was told that he had lost his father. Claimed by Death in the end through a failure of heart that was never discovered by their Healers.

In that moment, as the people around him heard his title and saw the servant, they realized why he hadn’t been able to answer all their questions and why he had asked so many in return. Why it had always seemed as if he came from another time, from another world.

He lost the most precious thing of all then, without realizing it.

For trust is hard to achieve, and yet so easy to lose.

 

*

 

There was no funeral for the late Master.

When Genji asked a servant about it, a twinge of anger within him that the Elders dared to deny his father such a right to lie down next to their mother deep beneath the ground, the servant simply replied that it was not a matter Genji needed to concern himself with. That the Elders had plans.

Things changed quickly after that.

He was forbidden to leave the castle grounds, the freedom once granted by his father now just as dead as the man himself. Guards stood by his door and windows, following wherever he went, never leaving him alone and never giving him a chance to escape back to the world outside.

He wondered what his friends thought of him, for disappearing like that.

And it felt strange, to be a prisoner in his old home, now that he had tasted freedom. There was nothing to do, no games to play and no chattering with his friends, and it left him pacing in his room until his legs tired and he was forced to realize reality.

His father was dead.

He was locked away, like a bird in a cage and just as restless.

And Hanzo was to become the new Master of the Shimada clan.

Genji didn’t know what to feel. Perhaps he should’ve been ashamed for such a thing, to be able to control his emotions and his magic so well even though his father had passed. A man who he had never learned how to hate, but had feared until the moment he had let him climb the wall to another world.

Still, there was a mute anger within him, not enough to make the guards falter in his presence, but there nonetheless. Angry at himself for _returning_. To have allowed them to lock him up the way they did, to let himself be surrounded by guards in the first place.

He tried to reach that anger one evening, grasped after it and tried to blow some life into the flame, _anything_ that could make the guards’ attention falter long enough for him to sneak out through a window. But he found that he could not. Because some part of him knew that the freedom had only been meant to be temporary. That he was always to return to his rightful place in Hanzo’s shadow, willingly or not.

And he could no longer feel anger for such a truth, had already come to accept it long before he first ventured outside.

The freedom had never been his to begin with.

Yet, he remained restless, watching the guards and learning their patterns, listened to the gossip around the castle, noted how Hanzo fit into the role of the new Master _so perfectly well._ Just as he had been born to do.

And Genji got to work.

He began charming the servants with no stardust upon their skin and no magic surrounding them, knowing that they were lured in by his own magic if he just eased his control a tiny bit. He began making _friends_ in his own home, listened to their problems and worries, smiled and laughed and made them lean into his light touches.

Then he began to ask them for favors. Innocent at first, asking for a book he couldn’t find in their library or a newspaper from the outside. Dangerous later, when the favors were bought through secrets and sins late in his room, and the servants helped unknowingly with his plan.

A fire in the kitchen.

A false alarm of an assassin on the grounds.

A call for help just down the corridor the guards couldn’t possibly ignore.

And with that, Genji could sneak away in the chaos caused by _favors_ , could easily climb over a wall like he had done so many times before. But this time, he knew he couldn’t return. Hanzo would survive without him, he was sure. After all, he was the strongest magus Genji knew and who knew how much stronger he had grown since Genji had stopped returning home?

Hanzo would be fine.

And Genji would too, if he could travel as far away as possible from Hanamura.

 

*

 

He found his friends in a small bar, chatting and drinking and seemed to get along fine without him.

“Hey,” he began, and they all paused to look at him, eyes wide and lips parted as if they were staring at a ghost. Or a _monster_. “Sorry about before. Just urgent matters that had to be taken care off!”

He waved off the topic with a hand and a laughter. But he stood awkwardly by to the side as no one moved, no one allowing him a space where he could sit. And in that moment, no freckles upon cheeks so alike stardust and no magus with a trick for foretelling could save him.

“You were gone for a _month_ ,” one of them spoke, voice low, a tone Genji had never been spoken to with before and it sent a chill down his spine, made his smile falter.

“We thought you were never coming back,” another spoke up, regular and with a gap between their teeth and Genji couldn’t remember their name.

“But what did we expect?” The Seer flicked her hair over her shoulder, her icy glare seeming to see more than just five second into the future. “We let in a _lying snake_ amongst us. A _murderer_ just like the rest of your family, _Shimada_.”

The sound of his family name seemed to pierce him, and he took a stumbling step backwards as if physically struck. The smile upon his lips was false and unsure, cold sweat slipping down his neck. And he didn’t _understand_.

“I don’t-“ He began, swallowed and gave them a smile which held no emotion, grasping for _anything_ that could save the situation. Save the trust of his friends. “I don’t know what you are referring to-“

But there was no saving the trust, for it had already been lost for so long. And he had been gone for a month, enough time for someone to decide that they didn’t need that one familiar who asked too many stupid questions and who was willing to bed anyone. Who wore the name of the _Shimada_.

“Oh? Don’t you?” The magus with wind at her fingertips stood up, and Genji couldn’t remember what her kiss had felt like, with her lips turned into a sneer. “So you, _the familiar who knows nothing about anything_ , don’t even know about your own family?!” A scoff, a threatening step towards him. “You _dare_ to tell us you know _nothing_ of what your family has done? That you know nothing about the bodies found in the rivers, scarred with magic until they can’t even be recognized for _human_?!”

“And you know nothing of the drugs?” A familiar spoke up, cat ears poking out of his hair. Wouldn’t even look at Genji. “Nothing about the drugs and the corruption and the way they steal powerful magus and familiar from their mothers’ arms so that _no one_ can stand up to them?”

“You don’t know of the brothels they run?” A regular smiled up at him, something dark in his eyes. “Oh the _irony_. If only they knew their _Young Master Shimada_ visited them for their best whores! Why, you should’ve told them! Reduced the price!“

And no, Genji had never known, for he was but the dragon in his brother’s shadow, had never been trained to take over the business and had thus never been told. And he had sneaked out and skipped lessons and had never paused to think about _why_ the only strong magus he met had been a _tourist_ and who had left just as quickly as she had arrived.

“No,” he whispered, voice unheard as his friends stood up from their seats, saw only how ignorant he seemed for ignoring the facts right in front of him. For ignoring their suffering which he had never known for they had never told him. “No, look, I don’t know what you are talking about-“

And his friends laughed at him, too loud and too false, surrounding him for he had no desire to flee.

“But I am surprised, to be honest,” the Wind-breather huffed, arms crossed over her chest. “That the Shimada let _you_ live. A _familiar_!”

“They must’ve thought he was of use in some way,” the Seer spoke up, head tilting slightly to the side as she looked him over, tried to see right through him. “Or you would’ve ended up in the river with the rest of _your kind_.”

“Or perhaps,” his first friend with freckles on his cheeks, spoke up with a grin that didn’t fit his face at all. “He isn’t a familiar at all! He might’ve just tricked us the whole time, _stolen_ magic from the rest of you!”

They closed in on him, magic and stardust in the air as they amplified each other, brushing against Genji’s skin without being able to cut. Claws pressed against him, the snarl of a cat and the stare of an owl, stardust trying to keep him in place. The other people in the bar had paused to look, gawking at the scene before them, not even trying to interrupt them.

Waiting to see if he would be killed or not.

 

*

 

When he was five years old, his father had pulled scale after scale from his green body until there were no more scales to pull, had stolen his mother away from him only to bury her deep beneath the ground.

And once again, he was five years old and scared to death.

It was no wonder that his control snapped.

 

*

 

He didn’t know how it happened, hadn’t _known_ it could happen so easily, his fear gripping a hold on his soul in a way his anger never could. And amongst his friends’ shouts and stardust, he _changed_. A roar tearing from his throat, claws scratching up the floor, body taking up the room from one corner to the other. Green and shimmering. The body of an ancient time long past.

“ _Monster_!”

He snapped around, met the eyes of his first friend, saw his own fear mirrored in those dark eyes, and he became completely frozen in place. Unable to flee despite his whole being _screaming_ at him to. Everyone was as frozen as he was, staring at him and not believing their eyes, for how could they? A dragon was an ancient being, seen only in colorful books meant for children, and yet there it was. There _he_ was. All shimmering green and sharp claws. Magic swirling in the air, raw and unhindered, like rain during a monsoon and rich chocolate a cold winter’s day.

But then there was a shift, something mixing with his own magic, a glitter of stardust he recognized so well because he had spent hours of his childhood feeding it with his own magic. The one who had known and yet never told him the secrets which haunted their family.

“Genji, back down.”

Hanzo’s voice was calm, tired almost.

Slowly, Genji tore his eyes away from his friend, turning to look at his brother.

Unrecognizable. The new Master of the Shimada clan. And Genji snarled at him, a strange sound from the mouth of a dragon.

“ _I am not returning home_ ,” he spoke, a dangerous growl in the back of his throat. “ _And you will not make me_.”

A sigh left Hanzo and he didn’t move from where he stood at the door of the bar. Behind him, guards with stardust on their hands stared at Genji with _horror_ , because they had known to some extent that Genji was _different_ and yet they had never been able to imagine in what way.

“You have little choice in the matter,” Hanzo claimed, told the truth, because Genji could hardly escape them and even if he did there were no place for him to go. All he had ever known was in the small town. “Return home with me and spare these commoners more pain.”

And Genji was torn.

Desperate to escape and yet knowing he could not, he growled at his brother, let his emotions run wild for once in his life, let his fear and anger cloud around him. Mixing with the stardust. Gold and sparks, a storm in the brewing.

His mother’s words echoing within him. _Be strong_.

He lashed out without warning, a plan to throw Hanzo to the ground and then fly away. And he managed to reach his brother on stumbling legs and without tying his own body into a knot, saw the flash of fear in his eyes before a hand was lifted, stardust flaring, and Genji hit an invisible wall.

It was all over from there.

Ropes conjured from nothing bound his limbs together, stealing away any movement he did, and even though he snarled and spit at his brother, flames licking his lips, he could do nothing to stop it.

Only then did Hanzo approach, standing just a breath away and yet not close enough for Genji to try and take a bite, to put his sharp teeth to use. He looked down on him, a coldness in his eyes Genji associated with their father.

“Turn back into human form,” he spoke, voice low and threatening and Genji snapped at him. Saw only disappointment in return. “Do not dishonor yourself more than you already have.”

Genji stared at _the stranger_ before him. The brother he had known would never have bound him and stolen his freedom, would never had let it go so far to begin with.

But this was the Master of the Shimada.

“ _You_ ,” Genji hissed out, his body losing the green and his scales, shrinking back down to _humanity_. And still the ropes remained, leaving him tied up like a meal for the wolves. “You are not my _brother_.”

There was no reaction from Hanzo and Genji had stopped expecting one.

“The clan Elders are severely disappointed in you,” he said instead. No emotion to be interpreted. “I suggest you accept your punishment without complaint.”

With words dead on his tongue, voice stolen from him with a snap of Hanzo’s fingers, Genji could do nothing but writhe and toss in his restraints. Not enough to escape, but enough to make a point.

Hanzo gave a short nod, the guards behind him moving at the motion, storming into the room Genji had trashed as a dragon. And when Genji glanced back, expecting some sort of _resistance_ from his former friends, he saw them all unconscious.

And he was the cause. 

He couldn’t blame it on the fact that he _hadn’t known_ of the secrets and the horrors, because he _should_ have known and there were no excuses for the pain he had caused them. For the betrayal they must’ve felt.

There was a flick in the air, the stardust coming to life, magic _humming_ around them, ready to transport them back to the castle grounds.

Genji closed his eyes and let it happen.

 

*

 

He didn’t know what happened to his friends.

And he never heard of the new bones they found in the river.

Blackened and scarred.

 

*

 

The Master was the Shimada clan’s face outwards. He, or in most cases _she_ , was the one who cared for their business, who held up relations with the other major families and who paid off the people in high places to be left alone.

But the ones with the real power were the puppeteers who sat behind the scenes, fingers wrapped in strings as they set people in motion and snapped the lines of others.

And unlike the late Master, the Elders showed no mercy.

 

*

 

“We are disappointed.”

The Elders looked down upon him, their chins held high, air trembling around them, mixed with stardust and magic. _Magus_ , every single one of them. For there had never been a familiar nor regular who had been allowed to live long enough to exceed generations. And these magus were the most powerful of them all, overpowered only by the Master, but there was a strength in unity and so no one with a right mind would ever dare to challenge them.

But Genji kept his chin just as high, staring them down if they dared to meet his gaze. Even though he was on his knees and even though there was a sharp blade pressed against his neck. His powers were stolen from him by reality, for he could not move without being killed, couldn’t let his emotions and magic flare, couldn’t let the dragon take over his form in a desperate try to tear the Elders apart and _flee_.

It was a battle long lost before it had even begun. And so, Genji sat in silence with his rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

“We should never have allowed Sojiro to keep you,” the Elders continued, unfazed by the fury in his eyes. “You should have been killed the day you were born, and now look at what you have done!”

“You have dishonored yourself in your attempt to bring us down into the mud with you,” another picked up, scarred from stardust upon his skin. “You have ignored all our warnings and conditions, and now you shall pay the price you owe us.”

There was a pause in the air, a tremble as Genji’s magic slipped ever so slightly. The blade pressed closer, drawing blood, warm and hot dripping down his back.

A huff, humorless and cold and yet resembling a laughter. A woman stood up, marks of magic upon her arms, etched into her skin like a tattoo. Glowing in the faint light.

“If you are so _eager_ to use your magic,” she spoke, lips pulled into a smile while her eyes remained dead. “Then we shall put you to good use.”

Jaw clenched, voice still stolen, he could do nothing to respond to their decision. But Hanzo shifted to his side, a quick glance at his brother before he refused to look again, and Genji knew this couldn’t be good.

Because it was never a good sign when the Elders could have use of a _monster_.

 

*

 

There are three laws one should never attempt to break, for they were put up as protection from oneself.

Genji and Hanzo had learned them early in their training, and Genji had never paid them any mind, for he figured that a magus could never be powerful enough to bend the laws of magic itself. Thus, no magus nor familiar would ever try such foolishness.

But as the ritual was prepared, a million thoughts ran through his mind. For even though the Elders carried age in their bones, they were still magus and still so very powerful. And if they could receive whatever they pleased with their stardust and magic alone, then what else could such powerful magus want with _Genji’s_ magic?

Genji couldn’t speak, didn’t have permission to, and so he couldn’t possibly tell the Elders to stop, to beg anyone to hinder the _idiocy_ which was about to take place.

Hanzo spoke in his place.

“With all respect,” he said, voice sounding so secure in the room, and yet barely anyone paid him any mind. Despite his title and his power, the Elders only _glanced_ at him. As if he was nothing but a _child_. Yet, Hanzo continued, unfazed as if he had stood before them many times before, as if he had asked them over and over to _please spare Genji’s life_ and _he doesn’t know what he is doing_ and _he will come to his senses soon_ -

“I know what you are planning. I know what you strive to achieve with this ritual.” Hanzo took a shallow breath, didn’t glance over at Genji and he couldn’t quite figure out if Hanzo was bargaining for Genji’s life or for his own. “But I also know that there are laws, more ancient than magic and stardust. No good will follow if they are to be broken.”

And while a cold chill ran through Genji’s body, the Elders merely laughed.

“This is but more evidence that you are not worthy to carry the clan’s legacy,” one of them sneered, stardust stuck as lumps in their stripy hair. “These laws _can_ be broken, through stardust and magic strong enough. Genji is the last piece. By combining with his magic, we shall ensure the survival of the clan where _you_ surely will fail.”

Chalk coated fingers and hands as symbols were drawn on the floor, old and complicated, words from ancient times of two brothers wielding the shape of dragons. And just like the dance of dragons, the symbols seemed to swirl around each other, round and round and _round_.

Leaving Genji in the middle.

A servant entered the room, escorted by guards on her sides, carrying a simple urn decorated with gold and symbols alike the ones on the floor. She walked past Genji without a glance on him, the urn placed just before him. And when she backed away, he could lean forward ever so slightly to see its contents.

Ashes.

The last remains of a human.

The blade left his neck as the guard backed away to safety behind the white chalk, and when Genji dared to look around without worry of sharpness to his skin, he saw that no one stood within the frame of the symbols. Standing at the very edge, the Elders closed the circle, joined by Hanzo through hesitant steps and nervous glances at anywhere but Genji and the ashes before him.

The magic claiming his voice snapped and broke, and Genji stole a ragged breath, felt fear began to hum in his chest.

“Don’t,” he began, voice broken and shattered and he tried desperately to pick up the pieces in time. “There must be another way!”

The Elders and guards and servants ignored him, and even though Hanzo shifted where he stood, he did not try to interrupt. And there was a _hum_ in the air, stardust beginning to swirl around magic, the unique fingerprint of every magus mixing with each other’s until one could not see its beginning nor its end. Ready to draw magic until bones darken and crumble, until skin turn to ash, until there is not a single drop of life left.

“Hanzo was born and raised to lead,” Genji tried again, a _pang_ in his chest and there was a _tug_ as stardust settled upon his skin, drawing and _tearing_ what it wanted from within him. And even though he tried to fight it, he knew it was a battle he couldn’t possibly win. “Let Hanzo lead like he was meant to. You don’t need to do _this_!”

But his words fell on deaf ears, a chanting filling the air and Genji was pierced without any sign of harm, magic slipping from his grasp and drawn to the stardust around him. No longer glittering gold but dark and ashen. And Genji gasped and wheezed, trying to grasp onto the magic he could reach, tried to reel it all back in, tried to keep his emotions in check while the Elders tore off every defense he had put up _so easily_ it was almost laughable.

At first, there was only _pain_. To have his magic ripped out so violently and being able to do _nothing_. But then there was a tingle, like the chime of a bell, and something within him snapped in two. Bones breaking and reshaping, skin shattering like old scars to make way for green scales without shine, a scream stuck in his throat belonging to a beast that knew no language.

He filled the circle with his body, knocked over the urn with ashes with a flickering tail, and the ashes swirled into the air, dancing with the magic and the stardust. The chanting rose around him, voices turning into one and Genji couldn’t make out his brother’s voice anymore, but the chanting _tugged_ at him, _pulled_ him from every direction as if the stardust was trying to _stretch_ him out, to tear him apart.

He had felt his magic be used once before, when he had slept with the Light-bringer and her stardust had scratched beneath his skin in a way that didn’t feel good nor _bad_ , but like the scratching of an itch he hadn’t known he’d had.

Now, there was only agony.

The scratching turned into a stab, like the twist of a knife in an open wound. No sound left Genji’s mouth, no roar and no scream. _Nothing_. For he was stunned in the pain amongst the stardust coating his skin like a prison, amongst the magic threatening to suffocate him.

But he saw the ashes of his father react, flickering like a flock of birds in flight, creating shapes before it flickered out of focus once again. Magic trying to bind it in place, stardust trying to stitch it together.

The shape of a human appeared before him.

 

*

 

_The dead have no business in this world_.

 

*

 

The Elders had known he was strong, had planned for this ritual since he had taken his first breath and had been spared by his parents. They had always had the idea to use him, to steal his magic until his core was empty and corrupt, to offer his life in exchange for someone else’s long past.

But they had done a miscalculation.

Because Genji wasn’t just a familiar, strong beyond belief.

He was a _monster_.

And no laws created by humans or nature could chain a monster so ancient only the Earth remembered them, a monster so strong they once destroyed themselves through their power alone.

The roar which had been stuck in his throat finally tore itself free as Genji let go of emotions and magic alike.

There was a pause in the air.

The human in the ashes stared at him.

Chanting interrupted and dead on tongues.

Then the air exploded.

Magic burned the trace of stardust and ashes alike, turning them into nothingness. _Obliterated_ from reality. And the scent of the first rain in spring and dark chocolate a cold winter’s day filled the air, shattering any boundaries keeping the dragon chained to symbols and swirls and circles.

A flick of his tail, a rumbling roar sending trembles through the very core of the _Earth_ , and Genji took flight. No longer human, but a dragon in body and soul, tearing through the roof and sky with only desperation in his mind.

Behind him, he left a brother who had lost his way, staring up after him.

Wondering what he had done.

 

*

 

No matter how strong he might be, a dragon could not fly far with wounds marking his insides, with his magic flaring wild without a stop. With his core beating like a heart ready to burst, flickering like the wings of a bird.

He crashed into the forest just beneath the mountain he had fled, sticks and thorns scraping against his scales without doing any harm and yet he felt pain as he landed on the ground, breath stolen from his lungs.

And Genji tried to get up, tried in desperation to use the last of his strength to get just a bit further away, to just push a little bit more, _to be strong_. But he could do nothing but scrape at the ground with sharp claws as his core tore him apart from the inside. He remembered then, words spoken so long ago, that he would surely die if his magic was not used, that he was drawing Death closer for every second his magic remained untouched. But he could not reel in his emotions no matter how hard he tried, for they flared like a burning fire, fighting for just another breath.

Like a bird who had finally been allowed to fly.

And so, able to do nothing else, he curled up on himself like he had done as a child. Cold and young and vulnerable and _oh so tired_ of running without getting anywhere. Deciding that perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all, to end the suffering without harming anyone else. Because this was the world of humans. It had no place for someone like him.

With no one in the world who wished him life, he closed his eyes and awaited the end.

 

*

 

That was when he first met her.

She wasn’t Death, couldn’t possibly be. Because Death did not walk with the sweet air of dripping honey and white chocolate a summer’s day. Death did not glimmer with golden stardust, stuck in hair and eyelashes, cascading down in the air with very movement. Death did not bring _light_ , so blinding and warm Genji never wanted to look away.

“Oh you poor creature,” she breathed, words passing over her lips like a soothing promise, and she neared him without fear.

Fingers gently touching his muzzle, trailing a pattern up to his forehead and he could do nothing but lean into that touch, a weak rumble in his chest.

She whispered nonsense in his ears, stroking his scales and coating green with gold, giving his body a shine through her stardust, _warm_ like the midday sun.

And with her murmurs, she stole the pain from within him, so gently Genji barely noticed how his core stopped trembling, all fears and all sorrows chased away through her warmth. Magic swirling only briefly in the air, mixing in the perfect sync of honey and rain and chocolate, before it returned to the earth.

She created beauty from his magic, created _life_ in ways he had barely known were possible, with flowers blooming before his eyes, rising up towards him. Red and orange and blue and purple, in every shade and every shape.

Through that beauty, she saved his life.

“Live on, dear dragon,” she whispered, lips just a breath away from his scales, a rustling in the bushes close-by. Hurried steps approaching. “And perhaps we shall meet again.”

With that, she was gone. A glister of stardust. Honey and white chocolate slowly fading.

And Hanzo broke through the bushes, followed by guards with magic at their fingertips, surrounding the dragon and ready to strike down the mighty beast. Trampling down the flowers.

His brother didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to for Genji to release the shape of the dragon, falling to his knees as a human. He could no longer struggle against the shackles binding him, not if it would steal the life now saved. And oh how precious it must’ve been, for Life herself to have greeted him. 

He was brought back to the Shimada castle like that. Broken and shattered, with no hope of ever escaping again. But so very alive.  

 

*

 

In the stories his mother used to tell him as a child, there were always dragons guarding towers, protecting princesses able to cure curses. She never read him the end of those stories, of how the beast was always brought down through fire and steel.

But Genji’s life was not a fairytale.

For he was locked away in a tower, a beast with no bite left. Hidden away until the Elders knew what to do with him, until they decided that a monster they could not control had no right to keep breathing.

And in the meantime, they stole all chance of freedom, afraid that Genji would fly away through the skies when they did not look. They called upon a magus with ink in their veins, who scratched markings upon Genji’s back, sealing away the dragon and leaving him as human.

It was meant to seal away his magic as well, to store his emotions in the ink of a green tail and the burning eyes of a shape he could no longer attain, but it was beyond the Inker’s ability. Magic still flared of life within him, barely a fraction weaker than it had been before.

And that magic was the only thing separating him from a regular.

 

*

 

Genji began to count the days.

The guards did not speak to him, nor did the servants look at him as they brought him his meals and carried away the empty dishes. He knew nothing of the outside, if his friends were alive or if the Elders had grown closer to a decision.

All he could do was wait.

But silence and restlessness laid way for thoughts, for ideas and wonderings. And no matter where he started, he always ended up at glittering stardust, a light in the dark. A warm hand on his scales.

He wondered many times who the magus might have been. If she had truly been real or just a fragment of his broken mind. Her magic tasting like honey and white chocolate, with stardust so strong she carried a golden shine.

He wondered if she was a Light-bringer, but knew that no shaper of light alone could heal wounds and create a meadow of flowers. Wondered if perhaps she was a Healer instead, but a Healer never carried more stardust than the light coat on their hands.

She had carried Life and chased Death away.

And so he wondered what she had seen in him, to grant him such a gift.

 

*

 

It took one hundredth days before Hanzo came to visit.

He came in glamour, entering through the shadows of the night where no guards watched. Nor would anyone be able to catch them, for the ones who guarded Genji’s room had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

“We are leaving.”

And Genji, woken from a light sleep which could only conjure nightmares, stared at his dear brother. His brother whom he no longer recognized, who had been in the circle to steal his life and breathe it back into their father.

Genji didn’t move. Kept still as Hanzo shoved down clothes into a bag, taking only the things of importance. And perhaps Hanzo wanted well, but a part of Genji was tired of running. _Couldn’t possibly run anymore_ , with his dragon stolen from him.

“Did you not hear me?” Hanzo turned towards Genji, something _desperate_ in his eyes despite his try to hide it. “ _We are leaving_. The guards will not sleep longer than sunrise; we need to make haste.”

“But why?” Genji frowned up at Hanzo, wondering if this was a trick. If his brother did this on order of the Elders, to see if there were still an ounce of loyalty left within him. Wondered if he was about to walk into his own death.

The question made Hanzo pause, as if he hadn’t yet considered the weight behind the choice.

“The Elders have made a decision about you,” he answered, voice hesitant. “Tomorrow, after the bell chimes twelve, your life will end.”

A pause.

A painful clench in his chest.

A hand outstretched for him to take.

“I have seen the pain and grief I have caused you, and I understand where I have done wrong. Still a part of me believes you deserve the end the Elders have planned, for the pain and grief you have caused me in return.” Hanzo took a deep breath. “But you are also my brother. The only family I have left. I do not understand what you saw in the world outside the walls which enchanted you so. But I hope that one day I will.”

Genji stood up from the bed, glanced at his brother and saw no hint of lies. He passed him without a word, speaking only when he rummaged through his pile of clothes, finding something fit for whatever adventure Hanzo envisioned.

“Where will we go?”

A sharp breath.

“Wherever we can.” Another breath, voice catching a hint of something light. _Excitement_? “As far away as possible. Somewhere where no one has heard of our clan. Somewhere safe.”

And to Genji, that sounded good enough. Because perhaps he was tired of running without getting anywhere, yes, but what if he had done it all wrong from the start? What if he was never meant to run _alone_? And perhaps running with his brother would be better than not running at all.

Turning towards his brother, Genji met his eyes and said without a hint of fear and without a hint of regret, “Lead the way.”  

 

*

 

The Shimada clan would never survive without the two brothers, when there were no strings left for the Elders to pull, and so it would fall into ruin in their absence. But as they fled the grounds, through a glamour of invisibility, they vowed never to return.

“If we could, I would want to live a normal life, as any familiar would,” Genji whispered with a heart beating too fast in his chest, magic lent to Hanzo to keep up their glamour and even then it felt like the nothingness it had always been. Not a trace of the pain he had felt on that faithful night a hundredth days ago.

And Hanzo glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. Stiff in its unfamiliarity.

“Perhaps it is not too late for us yet, brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this on time! Amazing!  
> You can find the rest of my fics/drabbles for the gencyweek [here on my tumblr](http://emiza.tumblr.com/tagged/Gencyweek2)!
> 
> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me.
> 
> Please enjoy!

In a country without an ocean, surrounded by mountains so tall they could have been giants laid to rest, the two brothers found their new home.

It had taken years, travels across countries and oceans alike, and never had it been easy, for they grew up in luxury. But living on the run, hunted by a decaying clan whose powers faltered further every day, they saw the world for what it was.

 _Magical_.

A wonder hidden from them for so long. And the freedom they had tasted so briefly in Hanamura could never hold a candle to the cities they passed. Large and colorful and so varied that no city was similar to another, its habitants just as unique.

But despite its beauty, freedom was dangerous. Too many questions were asked, whispers and rumors rose where two strangers set foot, and it made Genji proceed with caution while Hanzo wielded his stardust close. Sometimes, a touch of stardust and magic were needed to keep some off track, those who spoke too loud and those who spread rumors too close to the truth.

Many times, when the night fell and tried to lull them to sleep, in old hotels with stained bedsheets or under the roof of branches of a dark forest rumored to carry wild beasts, doubt would sneak into their minds. Like poison, it would make them question their decision, make them wonder if perhaps they would’ve been better off if they had stayed with the clan, perhaps they could’ve made a difference then instead of running from it. Perhaps it wasn’t too late, the Elders might be forgiving if they were to return now.

And every time, Genji would remind Hanzo of the ritual which tore his bones into shapes he could no longer attain, would show him the curse tattooed upon his back, etched into his skin with magic to seal away an ancient power. Hanzo would remind him in turn of the strings attached to the Elders’ fingers, remind him of the awaiting execution, that there were no life left for them.

They kept each other alive like that, through stardust and magic and reminders, until they crossed those giants laid to rest, mountains reaching for the sky. For in the country with a language foreign on their tongues, quickly learnt by a trick of magic, there were no questions asked and no rumors spread.

Yet they passed through small towns and large cities alike without settling down. Because after running for so long it was hard to pause, to stand still.

 _It was for the best_ , Genji decided, _to keep running_. Because if they kept running, all the bad things would never catch up with them. And if they kept running, nothing bad could be caused.

But Hanzo had other plans.

 

*

 

It wasn’t much of a plan in the beginning. In fact, it was all about coincidence.

Because it was a pure coincidence that they were on the same platform, waiting for a train to take them past the mountains again. To move on with their running, to find another city without rumors and with foreign languages, with familiars in animal shapes Genji had never heard of before and with magus practicing specializations he never knew were possible.

And it was all pure coincidence that Hanzo walked into a man on that platform, smelling faintly of sand and dust and smoke.

At first, Genji didn’t mind it, busy trying to make himself seem unimportant next to his brother and the stranger, who stood tall and seemed to draw the attention of everyone around them with a drawl in his voice which send strange trembles through his core. But then Hanzo was tugging at his sleeve, pulling him away from their seat and onto the platform just next to theirs, new tickets in his hands.

To a whole new train.

“Mister McCree says there’s a city just half an hour away,” he explained, something in his voice and something in his gaze as he looked only at the stranger and not at Genji. “That we would fit in there.”

“ _Fit in_?”Genji huffed, finally looking the odd man over, couldn’t smell any magic on him nor see any stardust. A regular. “You expect us to _fit in_?”

“The ones who live in this city are people who fit in nowhere else.” A quick glance at Genji, looking for some kind of acceptance. “Thus, we will indeed fit in quite well.”

Genji wasn’t happy about it, not in the least, and he wasn’t sure he trusted this stranger because people who fit in nowhere else could be any kind of person. Criminals or dark magus or even _monsters_. And it all meant trouble for them, if they lingered too long, the fear of _questions_ always present. The fear of standing still.

In the end, Genji agreed to it only because he expected them to run again.

But they never did.

 

*

 

The train ride didn’t last for long, and all the while Genji watched his brother fall in love with the stranger. The emotion so new and fragile to Hanzo he probably wouldn’t recognize it himself, but Genji saw the way he looked at the man. The way he hesitantly touched him, feather-light and lingering.

The stranger never asked any questions, but curiosity still flashed brightly in his dark eyes. And he was the one who told the stories. Ones about a seemingly dangerous past and ones about his close friends, who all seemed to be as odd as he was, and he tried, _oh so obviously tried_ , to impress Hanzo with these stories. And if the stranger had been anyone else, Genji was sure, Hanzo would have just scoffed at the extravaganza.

But no, Hanzo was so completely smitten it was almost laughable, and for the first time since the two brothers left their home, he smiled.

It had been the stranger who had lured forth that twitch of his lips, awoke those old wrinkles at his eyes. And that was more than Genji could do. 

How could Genji possibly hate someone like him?

And ever so slowly as a city became visible from the window, large with buildings rising almost as tall as the mountains, Genji began to relax. The stranger, odd as he might seem, didn’t seem to be a liar.

Still, Genji made up a million different reasons why this was a bad idea.

 

*

 

“The air is a bit different here,” McCree spoke as he led the way from the train station and towards the busy streets of the city. Sounding almost like an excuse. “Tends to happen when lots a’ strong people gather.”

And so, Genji breathed in the air, tasted magic and stardust so powerful and so mixed together it should’ve lost all color. Yet the air was filled with purples and reds and greens and reminded him so of a blooming meadow created from his pain.

The thought made his heart beat a little bit faster, a hope from years long past returning, that perhaps, just _perhaps_ , he would meet the Life-bringer here.

 

*

 

“I like this city,” Hanzo declared after a tour and a cup of coffee at a busy café. Pulled Genji to the side so the smiling mister could hear none of their conversation. “This might be what we have been looking for.”

Genji wasn’t aware they had been _looking_ for _anything_ , too focused on running. And this was what he had feared, for Hanzo to stand still. When he stopped running, Genji was forced to stop as well. He had no chance of surviving without his brother, couldn’t hope for another miracle if his magic ran out of control.

A part of him was strangely relived and he couldn’t put his finger on _why,_ because he still had that small shimmer of hope of meeting _her_ here and he still had a million reasons _why this was a bad idea_.

And he was so utterly and completely terrified.

 

*

 

They found a small apartment fit for two, at the very edge of the city and with a view over the nearby fields.

Genji only heard later that it was McCree who had found it, who had pulled some strings and spoken to people he knew, and he never heard that Hanzo paid for it with money stolen the night they had left Hanamura. Money kept safe and hidden for an opportunity like this.

Their lives changed quickly after that.

Through more strings tugged and pulled, Hanzo was introduced to the right people. The ones who didn’t ask questions and didn’t demand answers, who took a whiff of his magic and a look at his stardust before they gave him a job.

“A _teacher_ ,” Genji huffed to himself, sitting deep in a couch borrowed from McCree and it still smelled of dust and smoke. Only temporary until they could afford something better. “Since when could Hanzo _teach_?”

And he wished time and time again that he could trade skin for scales so he could curl around himself and feel safe in this strange world he didn’t recognize. His arms didn’t seem to do the trick, and the thought of asking for a hug never crossed his mind, for it was such a silly thought to begin with.

And everything was _oh so silly_. Because _Genji_ was the one who belonged in this world, who had gotten to know it long before Hanzo, who had _found himself_ on the busy streets of reality and who had _thrived_ there. But now, after betrayal and trauma, _he_ was the one stuck indoors in a place they were supposed to call _home_ and yet it didn’t smell of cherry blossoms and old wood and ink. And no matter how much he wanted to go outside and explore the city, to find his old self again that he recognized so much better than this strange shell, he always found it impossible to open the front door. It always ended with him returning to the couch, sinking deeper for each time.

Their roles had been reversed, and Genji didn’t know what to do.

 

*

 

It took a week before Hanzo convinced him to leave the apartment.

“We need to shop for some groceries,” Genji was told, a credit card pushed into his hands, and he gave Hanzo a critical glare, wondering why _he_ couldn’t do that on the way home since _he_ was leaving the apartment anyway. “We have nothing left for dinner and we can’t depend completely on McCree, after the kindness he has shown us.”

There was a pause and Hanzo looked at his brother. Something critical in his eye, noting that Genji hadn’t switched clothes in a week.

“Some air will do you good. And some social contact.”

And so Genji was forced to leave the apartment after a change of clothes and a shower, and once outside he couldn’t deny that the air felt refreshing. Just as strange as it had been the day they arrived, a mix of so many people, and yet it was easy to breathe in. It didn’t feel like he was suffocating with every breath, didn’t feel the stardust tickle his throat, and he couldn’t figure out _why_ because the air in Hanamura had always felt _heavy_.

He tried to find the nearest grocery store, following vague directions from Hanzo, and while he searched, he gulped down breaths as if he had never breathed before. Despite his fear, no one seemed to stare at him, and he even received a knowing smile from a cute stranger, a flutter in his heart at the sight and things didn’t seem so bad anymore.

 _And so what_ if his own magic slipped only a little, mixing into the colorful harmony around him. There was no Shimada clan around to notice, and thus all a little slip would bring was a shorter time before his cup needed to be emptied once again. And with every light slip, he felt his fear slip away with it, emotions spent in exchange for magic.

In that moment he didn’t care. A bird with its wings cut, and yet so very free.

 

*

 

He got lost three times and walked past the same flower shop twice before he found the grocery store.

It wasn’t particularly large, but the shopping list he had been trusted with wasn’t very long, and so he quickly found the necessary ingredients to last them the rest of the week. At least until Hanzo forced him to return outside, and Genji suspected it would be easier the next time.

And it all went well, surprisingly so. The air in the store smelled more magic than stardust, of green grass and rising suns and streams through the forest, and he was greeted by a woman at the registers. Bunny ears poking up from her brown hair.

“You’re new here,” she noted and strangely enough, Genji didn’t feel fearful at all. Felt only _friendliness_ radiate from her. Grass and suns.  

“I recently moved here. With my brother,” he offered, shifting weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with himself as she scanned his items. She leaned forward ever so slightly, taking a whiff in the air and her smile widened. An exciting glister in her eyes, so very different from the drunk looks his old friends always gave him.

“Well, _damn_ , you smell good!” She grinned up at him, extended a hand over the counter for him to take. “Hana Song.”

He hesitated only for a moment before he took her hand, felt her firm handshake, and somehow she didn’t resemble a fearful bunny at all. “Genji.”

She finished off his items, handed him his receipt, and watched with her grin ever present as he packed down his things in plastic bags.

“Do you have a magus?”

It was a curious question, from a familiar to another and one Genji had heard his old friends frequently ask each other, and so Genji answered without hesitation. “No, but my brother helps me when needed.”

“Really?! That’s awfully kind of him!” She picked up a bright pink note, quickly scribbling down a number before handing it over to him. “Since you seem a bit lonely, give me a call if you want to, _I don’t know_ , see the city or play some games.”

Genji stared at the number, wondered if he should tell her that he didn’t own a phone at all or if that would seem too ignorant. Wondered if he should decline her offer right then and there instead, not sure if he would be able to trust another so quickly.

Not after what happened last time.

“I’m not lonely,” he said instead, but Hana only laughed, her bunny ears standing straight up.

“ _Not lonely_ says the guy without a magus,” she huffed, smiling along and there were no hard feelings, no mocking tone. “I would offer you a job here, but that would be considered stealing. Can’t take a powerful familiar all for myself.” A soft sigh. “I _could_ recommend some magus I know who are looking for a partner. How do you feel about fires?”

“Uhm,” Genji started, cleared his throat, and shoved down the piece of paper into one of the bags. He held up his hands, gave her a defensive wave. “I think I’m fine. But thanks.”

As he backed away slowly, slightly embarrassed for some reason, Hana cheerfully watched him go. Giving him a small wave and sincerely hoping he would give her a call.

 

*

 

The dinner that evening was a disaster. Neither of them had ever learned how to cook. And although Genji knew a dinner could easily be done through magic, Hanzo had refused.

The soup ended up burnt, and it was a wonder it didn’t catch on fire like the pasta did.

They ate in silence, disappointment weighting down upon Genji’s shoulders, and he offered to wash the dishes in return for ruining their dinner. Hanzo didn’t complain.

There was the faint sound of the TV in the background, water reaching his elbows as he scrubbed the plates, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to stay indoors and never leave again. Despite how delicious the air tasted on his tongue, despite the warmth that spread through him when Hana tried to make a friend.

Because that was the thing he feared most. For social contact, for friends, for things to repeat themselves.

 

*

 

Her pink note was hidden in his nightstand, always in the back of his mind.

 

*

 

Hanzo never forced him to leave the apartment after that, soon too swallowed up with his work and _teaching_ to seem to care much about Genji. And if he had some time to spare, he contacted McCree who was all too willing to spend time with his brother.

At first, it was a challenge, to try and cook with the few ingredients they had left, and the meals got more and more creative until the day he no longer had anything left to cook with.

Hanzo didn’t notice, had started spending more and more evenings at McCree’s place, kept well-fed and warm and cozy. Genji would rather not think about it, a strange sense of jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach.

And so, without much of a choice, Genji returned to the small store down the street.

It was easier to find this time. He only got lost once after he took a wrong turn when a stranger had given him a small wave and a hopeful smile he didn’t return.

And while out and _breathing_ he couldn’t for his life remember why he would want to stay inside.

Hana greeted him with a scolding look, betrayed only by her bright smile and perky bunny ears.

“You never called!”

Genji cleared his throat, tried to come up with any acceptable excuse as he walked through the store, followed by the familiar who wasn’t on register-duty that day. She didn’t give in and so he heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t own a phone.”

“You don’t-“ She paused, blinked, looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Head tilting slightly, bunny ears tilting with her and flopping to the side, and the sight made Genji’s heart just a little lighter. “You don’t own a phone. _Huh_.”

“I’ll tell my brother to buy one.” He tried a smile, but it felt stiff on his lips. He wondered when he had forgotten how to do such a simple thing.

“Your brother, yeah,” Hana hummed, nodding slowly. “You know, you don’t have to depend on him. There’s a lot of powerful magus out there looking for a good familiar to partner with.” She held up her hands in defense, as if he would give her a snarky remark. He remained silent instead. “Just saying. There are alternatives. You wouldn’t have a hard time finding a job.”

Genji didn’t comment on it, kept walking down the aisle, plucking random things from the shelves which looked edible. Hana kept following him, no other customers in sight, and Genji couldn’t come up with a good reason as to why she _shouldn’t_ follow him.

He found he didn’t mind it.

He grabbed a package of frozen salmon, with the vague memory of being served something delicious with salmon once before, and started to make his way towards the cashiers. And Hana gave him a critical look before she grabbed his arm, making him stop dead in his tracks with a heart speeding up _fast and fast and fast_ , without noticing and leaned close to stare down his cart.

“Not to be like that, but _what in the hell_ are you planning on doing with these things?” She released his arm to rummage through his items, and he found he could breathe again. “I mean, I get the salmon and the pasta and the pesto, but _why_ would you need gelatin and baby food?” A pause, a bright smile. “Must be a really exciting dinner, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to attend.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath, tried to seem normal, tried to look like he for a second there hadn’t been brought back years ago to breaking bones and swirling ashes around him. Hana only gave him a concerned look, realizing that there were more to Genji than she could see, didn’t try to uncover it.

“I don’t know what to do yet,” he answered her, voice trembling ever so slightly. “I can’t cook. I figured I could make it up as I went.”

A raised eyebrow, a teasing smile. “Salmon with baby food?”

Biting back a tug of his lips, he grabbed the baby food from her hands and started to make his way back to the shelf where he had found it. Laughter followed him.

“You’re an adult and don’t know how to cook,” Hana said and it sounded more like a statement than a snide remark. “I really wonder what your childhood looked like. But hey! It’s never too late to learn!”

She paused, an idea forming in her mind, and she clasped her hands together.

“I can teach you!”

Genji turned slowly, looking at her and _please no_ -

“Don’t give me that look! It’ll be super fun! See, you already know what a salmon is!” She laughed, air filling with the scent of green grass and dandelions and the morning sun. “Come on! I can bring some books for you to borrow, with _good_ recipes, and then we can play some games or just watch TV or something! It’ll be fun!”

Genji stared at her, not sure what to feel. And then he turned away, heading for the register. “Sounds to me like you are the lonely one.”

“Am not!” She called, quickly catching up to him. A warm flush on her cheeks, one bunny ear slumped. “I just want to make friends! And seeing a familiar lonely makes me feel lonely too. It’s in my genes.” She pointed at herself, a small smile upon her lips and she looked a bit unsure if anything. “I’m a bunny. We are sociable by nature.”

And Genji supposed he couldn’t run from this, settled for another sigh. Lighter this time. Because he really could use some help, and some good company with a familiar who could never hurt him through her _fluffiness_ didn’t sound too bad.

“Alright,” he said and Hana jumped in the air, throwing one fist up over her small win. “Tomorrow? Or is that too soon?”

And Hana grinned up at him, bunny ears tall and alert, eyes large and glistering. Magic feeding off her happiness, the scent of grass and flowers spreading. “Sounds perfect!”

 

*

 

Hana arrived one hour earlier than necessary.

She taught him the basics of cooking, and together they made a meal that didn’t burn in the pan and didn’t catch on fire. When he told her about his first try and the ruined spaghetti, she began laughing with tears in her eyes, mumbling teasing insults under her breath. Genji would poke her side then and it only made her laugh even louder.

Dinner that evening was the best he had eaten in years.

Vegetarian, because Hana wasn’t fond of the thought of dead things, but Genji didn’t mind and didn’t notice. He ate fast enough for Hana to give him a critical look.

“It’s not _that_ good,” she said, yet hummed as she took her first bite. “It’s a simple recipe. It’s not very luxurious.”

But the recipes she showed him definitely were, both simple and complicated beyond belief, with ingredients one could find in any store and ones Genji had never heard of before. She let him keep three of the books, recipes varied from simple meals to expensive cakes.

“You gotta give them back once you’re better at cooking,” she said, made him promise. And he did so gladly, warmth in his chest and yet another tug on his lips.

He decided then, as they settled down in the couch with a handheld game Hana had brought, when she made him smile warm and true and still so strange upon his lips, that perhaps making new friends wasn’t so bad.

 

*

 

Weeks began to pass in the same pattern, and it became easier and easier to remain still.

He followed the recipes Hana had lent to him, grew better and better at cooking until he barely had to look in the books. And when he ran into a problem he couldn’t solve, he called her on a phone bought by Hanzo, after the magus had realized he too needed one.

He started cleaning the apartment, did what he always considered a servant’s job, and he found that it was a lot more work than he had thought. He felt a pang of shame for taking such a thing for granted, when his hands were an angry red and his knees hurt after a day on the floor, scrubbing until there were not an ounce of dust left.

It took his mind off of things.

Hanzo never commented on the delicious dinner nor the clean state of their home, always returned home content and tired. Stardust flickering faintly upon his skin, never enough to grow sick, and never enough to offer his help to Genji unless he asked.

Hana visited weekly, brought new games every time. Sometimes, she even tried to convince him to leave the apartment, for just an hour or two, to take a drink at the bar just a block away, to relax and meet new people. Genji always refused, but she was persistent, claimed that one day he’d give in.

She met Hanzo for the first time one evening when she had stayed a little longer. They were watching a horror movie, and she laughed at the scary parts and turned fully into a bunny at the jump-scares. The air filled with rain and chocolate, with just the slightest of undertones of grass and suns.

Hanzo returned home then, before Hana had left. And there was a forced introduction between the tired magus and the lively familiar, but Hana remained polite and respectfully quiet, seemingly conscious of her long ears all the while, until the moment Hanzo retreated back to his own room.

“Genji,” she whispered, as if his brother could hear them through walls. “You should _so_ get another magus.”

Genji turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“No, perhaps not, but he has a job.” She paused, Genji blinked, and she gave a small sigh as she shook her head. “It means that he’ll get tired by his work and won’t have enough energy to help you when you need it.”

“It isn’t like that,” Genji tried, felt the falseness of his words as they left him. Because he had seen the way Hanzo was when he returned home, and when asked for help all he would do was steal just an ounce of magic. Never enough to last for long.

Hana gave him a small pat on his shoulder, gaze on the floor and ears hanging low.

“I know what I’m talking about. Trust me.”

 

*

 

Her words became truth only three days later, when Genji’s overflowing magic made him feel restless and yet unable to do anything. A buzzing in his veins, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and he felt like ripping off his skin and had to keep his hands busy.

He had pushed himself to the brink, as far as he dared to go. But when Hanzo returned home, he had no desire to help.

“I am too tired,” he claimed and Genji knew it was no lie, but the itch needed to be soothed, for he couldn’t sleep and could barely eat and there was this fear that reminded him of a dark night where his magic had run out of control. He couldn’t let that happen again.

And so he nagged and begged, hands trembling and heart beating faster in his chest, until finally, _finally_ , Hanzo gave in.

The spell was only a small one, a simple flick of a wrist and the room was filled with the sound of music. Lasting only for a minute, barely a drop of Genji’s magic. And although the itching was gone and his hands no longer trembled, he knew it would be the same the next day.

“Hanzo-“ he began, wanting his brother to do something larger, to drain some more magic, to make him last for at least a week.

Hanzo interrupted him before he could even begin to argue.

“I am tired. I cannot help you more than I already have.” A pause, a small snarl with something dark in his voice that Genji hadn’t heard in years. “Find someone else. It won’t be hard for you and your _charms_.”

The trembling in his hands returned.

“I can’t find someone else, _you know that_!” Genji spoke, voice rising just a tiny bit and yet Hanzo flinched. “No one else is strong enough. I can’t-“ A deep breath. “I can’t put my trust in a stranger.”

 

“Then what will you do if I find a familiar of my own?” Hanzo shot back, tiredness leaving way for an anger kept a secret for so long. “What will you do if I already have?”

There was a pause in the air as his words sank in, thick and sluggish like tar upon his skin, and Genji could only stare. Finding his voice with a trembling lip.

“Who?”

And he should’ve known it had only been a matter of time. That now, free from the clutches of their family, they were free to do as they pleased with their lives. And although Hanzo had been raised to be strong on his own, without any magic of a familiar, nothing stood in his way now.

Only a matter of time.

Because Hanzo was strong, and any familiar would be a fool for not trying their luck with him.

“Who?” He asked again, weaker this time, because Hanzo didn’t answer him and didn’t meet his eye, as if he was ashamed for falling in love in the first place. And as the realization hit him, Genji took a stumbling step backwards. “B-but McCree is a _regular_!”

When Hanzo spoke, his voice was low, sounding as tired as he looked. All anger washed away. “He’s a familiar, much like you. I’ve felt the traces of his magic, faint but still there. Coyote, I would guess.”

“His core…?” Genji swallowed, had only heard about it, had never met one with their core so corrupted it had to be removed. And he couldn’t ever have guessed, because McCree was just like any other regular he had met. “Did he tell you?”

“No, but I hope he will in his own time.” A deep breath, let out in an equally deep sigh. “And then perhaps, I can help him.”

All Genji could do was nod, finally understanding the situation, Hanzo’s unwillingness to help him. Because he had found a familiar of his own, magic core or not, and thus he had no need to help Genji because he would gain nothing from it.

And it was so very strange, because they had stopped running. But while Genji had stood still, Hanzo had moved on.

 

*

 

Jesse McCree, coyote familiar with his core removed and with no traces of magic left for Genji to pick up on, started coming over more and more often.

And while Hanzo didn’t comment on the food, McCree was delighted at the variety of dishes and choices. Joked that he should come over every day, if he was served food fit for a king every time.

Genji remained silent for most of his visits, feeling like an intruder in his own home. Because his brother only had eyes for McCree, who was no longer a stranger and yet just as strange. Soft whispers Genji couldn’t hear, light brushes over fingers and arms, a gentle peck on a cheek when they thought Genji didn’t see.

He tried not to mind it. Tried not to feel that pang of jealousy. Yet the longing still remained, for soft touches of his own, a warm body next to his, the scent of another.

To be loved so unconditionally, and to love someone back.

 

*

 

He called Hana the very next day.

“You were right,” he spoke, somehow kept his voice from trembling. “Hanzo has found someone else.”

“ _Genji_ ,” Hana sighed, a sorrow in her voice as if she had known and yet hoped the outcome would be different. “ _I’m so sorry. Should I introduce you to any of my friends? I’m sure they would be more than willing to help._ ”

“Thank you, but-” He took a deep breath, braced himself for what he was about to admit to her. Wondered if perhaps this was a bad idea after all, but she was his friend and she had offered to help him. He had no one else to turn to. “But I don’t think any magus would be strong enough to help me.”

There was a soft hum. “ _You’re holding back quite a bit, aren’t you?_ ” A pause, a soft tapping in the background as Hana thought. Genji remained silent until she spoke again, something light and _exciting_ in her voice. “ _I know! A friend of a friend talked about this Matchmaker in the city, like, someone who matches familiar and magus together, always with a perfect result! You should try that!_ ”

Genji’s immediate response was _no_ , because how could he possibly trust a stranger to match him up with yet another stranger?

“I don’t know,” he said instead, thoughts running wild to come up with an excuse, another solution, _anything_. “I don’t even know how these things work. Being with a magus.”

“ _Don’t worry about it, it’s all professional. A magus and their familiar don’t have to sleep together, you know. It just tends to happen that way._ ” A light laughter, calming Genji’s nerves like it always did. “ _I mean, look at me! My boyfriend is a regular and we get by just fine! When you get a magus, you sign a contract and all before you move in, so it’s very-_ “

“Wait,” Genji interrupted, his heart skipping a beat. “ _Move in_?”

There was a short pause, a noncommittal sound. “ _Yeah. It’s nothing strange, it’s just how things work. A familiar can’t live miles away from their magus. Like, I depend on my friends because I have Lúcio, but you’re a bit too strong for that. You can get a super nice magus and a super nice job, and you don’t sign a contract unless the two of you click. You don’t exactly move in with a complete stranger._ ”

“Alright,” Genji whispered, more to himself, heart beating a bit faster. “Then how do you know if you click?”

Yet another pause, broken by Hana’s easy sigh and soft voice.

“ _Oh Genji, you will just know_.”

 

*

 

Later that evening, he told Hanzo about the Matchmaker.

The only response he received was a weak “might be worth a try.”

 

*

 

The next day, he took a bus to the city centrum. Hana had given him simple directions, easy ones to follow and she claimed he couldn’t get lost on the way, and he soon found himself before a large building, hosting business companies of every kind.

The Matchmaker was on the top floor, one long elevator ride up, guided by a regular with a kind smile and sparkling red hair.

“I can imagine you’re nervous,” she whispered to him in the elevator, as if she was telling him a secret. “Most people are. Try to relax and be yourself, and everything will run smoothly.”

But Genji couldn’t see how that was possible, with nervousness running in his veins and with an itch just beneath his skin, yet he smiled and nodded. Hoped for the best because that was all he could do.

The Matchmaker herself was a quite short magus with a strange accent, a smile ever present on her lips. Her magic was faint in the air, smelling of busy streets and dark tea.

“Welcome to the Magical Matchmakers; Lena and Emily!” She spoke, seemed to shine even though there were barely any stardust upon her skin. “How can we help you, luv?”

They both looked at him, curiosity clear in their eyes, and Genji had to take a deep breath before he could speak. Because he was really doing _this_ , really there to try and find a magus of his own, to try and continue moving without running.

To try and shape his own life, for once.

“I’m looking for a magus,” he began, an encouraging nod from Lena. “Someone kind. Someone strong. And someone who can use my magic without hurting.”

A pause, Lena and Emily sharing a brief glance.

“Those are very low demands,” Lena said, stardust sparkling. “Tell me, do you trust magus?”

“Yes,” lied Genji through his teeth like he had been taught since he was small, thought that such a lie might make this easier. Because what magus wanted a familiar who didn’t trust them?

Lena narrowed her eyes at his answer, thought in silence for a moment, before she shone up again. “Alright! We were just about to start a speed-date mixer, so you came just in time!”

She gestured towards a door at the back, slightly ajar and Genji could make out the murmur of voices, the scent of mixed magic. And nervousness fluttered to life in his stomach once again, hesitation taking over his limbs, and he wondered if this was actually a good plan after all.

Thought once again about a million reasons why he shouldn’t do this.

“Relax.” Emily turned towards him, leading the way, and he found it easier to follow her than to enter the other room alone. “Just remember to relax. Don’t think of the worst that can happen; think instead of the _best_ that can happen.”

Genji forced himself to take deep breaths, a smile which drew no magic upon his lips, and although his heart beat too fast in his chest, he tried to listen to Emily’s words.

Relax.

And be strong.

 

*

 

The air in the room was almost suffocating with magic, born from nervousness and curiosity, stardust mingling in between and drawn towards that magic.

As the speed-dates began, Genji was placed at a table, for the magus were the ones who switched around. And Genji could see magus of every kind, with magic smelling sweet and sour and bitter, with stardust present upon skin and barely glistering upon hands. Familiar sat just as nervously as him, some with feathers in their hair and whiskers sprouting from their cheeks, some who repressed their magic as well as he did. Smelling of nothing.

The speed-date itself went by quickly, and yet it felt like an eternity.

Magus sat down at his table with smiles and nerves all visible for him to see, with introductions of passions and works, what they wished to achieve with a familiar by their side. To them, it was peculiar to meet a familiar with magic they could barely taste in the air, yet which seemed to draw them closer and closer, to drown them in a drunken haze if they were not careful.

To Genji, it was torture.

Magus with sweet magic and gentle smiles, who had small and unimportant jobs and who only wished to help a familiar in need, to make both their lives just a little bit better. Who took one look at Genji and excused themselves, for he was not what they looked for.

Magus with sour magic and slow smiles, who had larger and important jobs and who looked for someone to share that with, to climb just a bit further upon that ladder. Who looked at Genji and saw an opportunity, knowing that they could never hope to control his magic and yet he carried that silent promise of power which was more intoxicating than any magic could be.

Magus with bitter magic foul on his tongue and no smiles at all, who had no jobs to speak of and who only looked for power. Who looked at Genji and knew they could control his magic, whispered through shadows and gloom, of dark promises of things which couldn’t be achieved.

And yet Genji gave them all the same smile, sat still and patient, back straight and gaze forward, letting not a single drop of his magic spill. Assuming the role of the second son of a clan which had fallen into ruins. Waiting patiently for the five minutes to be over, hoping with every inch of his body that the next magus to sit down would be the one.

And he hated every moment of it.

 

*

 

“That was a disaster,” Lena sighed once it was done and over, when magus and familiar had left with smiles and numbers written upon skin and paper alike.

Genji lingered just a little longer, felt strangely empty of air and will. A confirmation of what he had already known, that there were no magus without darkness in their mind who wanted him.

“I’m sorry Genji,” Lena continued, smile gone from her lips, all her hope seemingly just as lost. “It seems I have failed.”

“It is not your fault,” Genji spoke, a false smile on his lips, and he spoke the truth for it wasn’t the Matchmaker’s fault she had received a customer like Genji. “But I thank you for trying.”

A heavy sigh escaped Lena and Emily gave her a gentle pat on her back. “If we ever see a magus who we think can fit you, we’ll give you a call.”

“Ah, there’s no need to.” Genji gave a small wave, heading towards the exit. “But again, thank you.”

He was already thinking of what to do next, knew that Hanzo wouldn’t help him with his magic any more, wondered if he should ask Hana’s friends for help and yet didn’t want to seem so desperate. Wondered, just a silent voice in the back of his mind, if he should try the quick fix McCree had mentioned briefly, the magus in the dark alleys who would do anything for just a taste of magic.

“Wait!”

Startled, Genji glanced back at the Matchmaking couple, Emily looking back with excitement in her eyes. An idea on her lips.

“We _do_ know a magus like that! Who is kind and strong and who never uses magic for harm!” She turned to Lena, who was starting to realize just where Emily was heading. “I know she claimed she didn’t want a familiar, but she is always overworking herself, and if she had a familiar she might not!”

Lena nodded frantically along, eyes large and smile even larger. “Yes! And Genji would be the perfect match! That’s it!”

They started rummaging through the small desk, looking for a piece of paper and then a pen they couldn’t find, until Lena waved her hand with a mumble under her breath, conjuring it from thin air. She scribbled down an address, with a street Genji didn’t recognize, and thrust it into his hands despite his weak protests.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said, voice growing weaker and weaker. “I can find other solutions and-“

“You can’t lie to me, you know,” Lena interrupted and Genji fell silent. Had wondered what she had specialized in but hadn’t thought to ask. “I can tell you’re lying. That’s what I do, what makes me good at my job.”

“ _Truth-teller_ ,” Genji whispered, realizing just how much he had actually told her simply by lying.

She gently closed his fingers around the piece of paper, and strangely enough, the smile she gave him seemed truer than the ones before it.

“Give it a try.”

And all Genji could do was nod, no promises leaving his lips.

  
*

He went to sleep early that evening, before Hanzo had returned home. No interrogation that way, he figured.

But he did receive a question, a chime on his phone just as he was about to close his eyes. And how could he not answer Hana?

_How did it go?_

Genji sighed, sending her a quick text back, telling her about the failure, about the creepy looks he got from a magus who smelled like dark woods and burnt candles, about the address he was given in the end.

He didn’t wait for Hana’s answer, turned off his phone and tried his best to fall asleep.

 

*

 

One new message.

From: Hana Song

_I looked up the address and holy shit Genji??? You should definitely go, I won’t forgive you if you don’t. If you refuse I’ll do something I will most likely regret, or just drag your sorry ass there because boy are you missing out!!!!_

 

*

 

Curiosity rose after Hana’s message, and he almost regretted looking at it after he woke up.

But what was done couldn’t be undone.

It didn’t take long to gather up his courage, not as long as it _should_ have, and not as long as it had taken just the day before when he had left to see the Matchmaker. Because this time, he had a choice. He could go to the address, and if the address led him somewhere strange or dangerous, if he by any point hesitated or didn’t want it any longer, if the curiosity died in his stomach, then he could just turn back home.

Hanzo looked up from the table as Genji passed by, a cup of coffee in his hand. Genji couldn’t remember when his brother had switched from tea to coffee, couldn’t know that McCree only had beans in his home and no tea to speak of, that the taste had grown on Hanzo, a lingering taste of the familiar himself.

“Going somewhere?”

Genji paused while tugging on his shoes, retying the shoelaces. “I just need some fresh air.”

There was a long pause, and Hanzo took a sip of his coffee.

“How did it go yesterday?”

The question made Genji freeze by the door, hand on the handle and just ready to open it. He swallowed, once, twice, before he could answer. Did so with a shaky voice and a false smile Hanzo couldn’t see through because he was no Truth-teller.

“Just fine.”

 

*

 

Through directions asked to strangers and bus drivers, through magus with the ability to find lost things and things yet discovered, he eventually found the little shop of the address. It was a small house, only two stories high, and seemed to be squished in between the two tall buildings made of glass just next to it. It looked misplaced, as if it should’ve been found in the middle of a forest or in an old forgotten village, and not there, on one of the busiest streets in a very busy city made of glass and art.

Green climbed the walls, following a pattern which could’ve been made from magic but could’ve just as well have been natural. Frosted glass covered the windows, and Genji couldn’t see in and couldn’t guess what it could possibly hide.

And just above the door was a sign.

“ _Wishes of Mercy_ ,” he read, a mumble under his breath, and it took a second longer, one more second of staring at the strange building before he realized.

This wasn’t just an ordinary shop, wasn’t just a building misplaced in a large city.

It was a Wish-maker’s shop.

And while Genji had prepared himself for turning around and going home at any point during his small trip, this had never been in his plan. Because now, he really had no other choice. He had only heard of Wish-makers, had heard of their power and of their magic, had held a wish-stone so many years ago and felt its wonders and hum. He had never met one himself, hadn’t known there was one in this very city.

The Matchmakers had given him this address, and Hana had made him go, and he was so eternally grateful for them.

He couldn’t possibly turn back now, when his curiosity had turned into excitement, a light feeling in his stomach. A smile, warm and true, tugging at his lips. And while he had lived with fear his whole life, fear of his father and fear of cages and fear of betrayal and harm, the only fear that made itself known now was an irrational one, that perhaps, just _perhaps_ , the Wish-maker would be stronger than him.

Would be stronger than a dragon and a monster.

But such a fear, irrational and silly as it was, was easy to push down. And for the first time in his life, the fear was not only swallowed down and ignored, but soon forgotten. Never to resurface again.

With butterflies waking to life in his stomach, he entered the Wish-maker’s small shop.

 

*

 

A small bell chimed above his head as he entered, and he managed to take a breath before she scent hit him.

The walls were filled of shelves, with more wish-stones than he could count in every color and shape imaginable. Yet he knew that these stones didn’t smell of magic, not in their neutral state. No, the scent that surrounded him, never threatening to swallow him but wrapping around him like a warm blanket a cold winter, existed in the very air.

 _And_ , he realized as he stumbled further into the shop, eyes wetting and emotions struggling to surface through his control, _it smelled like home_.

But it smelled nothing like ink and wood and cherry blossoms, the scents he had grown up with. The Wish-maker’s magic was light, airy, sweet in the way it settled upon his tongue.

Sweet like white chocolate and dripping honey.

Airy like a summer’s breeze having crossed an ocean.

Light like the rising morning sun creating a world of colors.

Genji wouldn’t have minded if he was to drown in this scent, would’ve welcomed it with closed eyes and a smile upon his lips. And he was so taken by the scent alone, that he didn’t noticed the person behind the counter, didn’t notice when she walked up to him until she was standing just an arm’s reach away.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked politely, voice just as familiar as her scent, just as warm. Stardust glistering upon her skin and eyelashes, falling off the tips of her hair with every movement.

And Genji could no longer breathe. His breath stolen by her voice and her eyes, blue and yet holding not an ounce of coldness, by the soft curve of her lips and the sharpness of her jaw. Stood there, gaping like a fish without being able to find his words, as she leaned just a bit closer, taking a whiff in the air. Eyes widening as she felt his magic, having slipped from his control so easily.

“Or are you perhaps looking for something special?” She tried, hands clasped behind her back. “Perhaps a gift for someone?”

“A-ah,” Genji breathed, found that he could once more, and he swallowed before he tried again. “I am looking for a _who_ , I believe.” A pause, a quick tongue darting out to wet his lips, to swipe away any nervousness left upon them. “Lena and Emily sent me.”

In an instance, the air around them shifted. It was like watching a car crash in slow-motion, and yet he could do nothing to stop it.

“Then you have come in vain, I’m afraid,” she spoke, didn’t sound apologetic at all. Arms crossing over her chest. “I have told them many times before that I desire no familiar of my own. Please tell them to stop meddling in my business.”

Genji swallowed, fought his nervousness with tooth and claw. “I don’t think they intended to offend you by sending me here. They were only trying to help me. I apologize.”

She looked him over, a critical gaze. Trying to keep her distance and yet she kept leaning closer to him, breathing in the scent of chocolate and rain, couldn’t possibly deny that she was as lured in by his scent as he was by hers. But she was good at denying, had done so for years.

“Would you mind if I stayed, just a bit longer?” Genji asked, snapped her gaze back to his eyes, and he had to remind himself once again how to breathe. “I won’t be in the way. This is just my first time seeing a Wish-maker’s shop.”

A soft sigh left her, but she shrugged and gestured around them. “Stay as long as you’d like. Many act like you the first time they see my shop, although, most of them are regulars.”

Without much else to say, she returned to the counter, sitting down in a tall chair that didn’t allow her feet to touch the floor. Genji watched her, no longer trying to hide his curiosity, as she picked up a wish-stone. Blue in color, as small as a pebble, and he couldn’t see from that distance if there were stardust swirling around within its shell or not. But the Wish-maker studied it closely, watched the light filtrate through it, drawing a nail along its smooth surface in the search for cracks and bumps.

“So why did Lena and Emily send you to me?” She spoke while not even looking up from her work, startling Genji in his staring. “There must’ve been plenty of other magus in the city.”

“There were. But few could handle my magic, and those who could would not use it for good.” Slowly, Genji walked closer to the counter, looking at the stones all around him, before he once again settled for the fluttering of eyelashes dusted with gold. “I was never told your name.”

There was a pause, the Wish-maker twirling the stone between two fingers before placing it in a plie with other stones the same size, all in different colors. And this close, Genji could see the faintest of glitter from stardust within.

“Angela,” she answered, looked up and met his gaze, something hesitant in her eyes. “Very few familiar can handle my stardust as well, and I grew tired of accidentally hurting others. So I suppose I can relate to your pain, in a way.”

And Genji shone up like the sun, felt a smile, warm and true and natural, upon his lips. “Angela is a beautiful name. I’m Genji.” A pause, another step forward. “And you’re probably the strongest magus I’ve met so far. It isn’t easy to be strong, when your strength can hurt the ones you care about.”

Angela’s lips parted ever so slightly as she stared at him, didn’t comment on his _probably_ because she couldn’t possibly have known about the Life-bringer he had met so many years ago. Instead, they shared that small moment of silence in complete understanding.

Both had hurt those close to them, simply for being strong. For being born with a magical core that flared like a sun and with stardust so golden and glimmering that lesser men would be blinded.

“Come,” Angela finally spoke, murmured something underneath her breath, created a chair from thin air and placed it just next to her. “Sit down with me. I will teach you about my wish-stones.”

And Genji sat down with care, excitement fluttering in his stomach. Taking her offer to heart.

 

*

 

“It is a complicated process, to take your own stardust and mix it with magic.”

Angela undid one of the guarding spells of a shelf, taking out a stone before returning to Genji’s side.

“You need to give it a physical shape that will last, along with the ability to be used, while keeping a balance so fine that any imbalance, as small as it might seem, will ruin the stone. Making you start over from the very beginning.”

Genji nodded along, staring at the stone Angela held in her hand. As large as her palm, green and glimmering, reminding him of those dark forests surrounding Hanamura.

“The larger the stone, the larger the wish,” she continued, stroking a finger over its surface. “But any bump or scratch, any imperfection will ruin the wish. In some cases, the wish won’t be fulfilled, but in other cases the wish will turn foul.”

“Sounds very complicated indeed,” Genji hummed, stretching his neck a bit to see the stone in her hands a bit better. A smile spread on her lips and she gently took his hands, placing the stone upon his palms. Entrusting him with something so beautiful, something so complicated and without a doubt _expensive_ , so easily.

“It is. But the result is worth it.” She leaned back a bit, studying his face as he stared down in awe at the stone. Tried to follow the pattern of the swirling stardust. “But the process also make them very expensive. The one you are holding costs about 10 years’ worth of salary.”

While most people would’ve dropped the stone out of pure shock, or been the more careful with it, Genji had grown up in luxury. Even years on the run couldn’t erase the traces his childhood had left him, and although he knew the stone was expensive, he couldn’t quite figure out just _how_ expensive it was. He had nothing to compare it with, couldn’t even compare it to what Hanzo made a month from his work because his brother had never told him.

“That sounds like a lot,” he said instead, hoped his ignorance didn’t show. But Angela paused, blinked, before a soft laughter left her. Sounding like bells and lighter than anything Genji could compare it to, seemed to heal his soul so effortlessly.

“You are a curious person, Genji,” she said, taking back the stone once he had finished his inspection of it, placing it back on its shelf, redoing the guarding spells. “Where are you from?”

 _Hanamura_.

_A bad place._

_From nowhere_.

The words got stuck in his throat, and he quickly averted his gaze, looking at anything but at her. As if she would be able to see his past through his eyes, as if she would be able to see his suffering and the curse burnt into his skin.

And she must’ve realized her mistake, for it didn’t take long before she took a deep breath, forced a smile upon her lips and changed the subject so effortlessly she could’ve done the same a million times before.

“How about I show you the process of a wish-stone? Might be fun watching.”

Her words made him dare look back up, giving her a grateful smile that she returned, true and warm. And in that moment, it felt as if he had been forgiven for everything he had ever done wrong.

She sat down next to him, feet dangling just above the floor, clearing the space before her. A deep breath, the calming of nerves, hands clasped on the counter.

There was a shift in the air.

The stardust flickered.

The scent of honey and white chocolate grew stronger, magic swirling in the air with the stardust. Light and airy and sweet. And Genji, starved to the point where he was still trembling from his own magic, couldn’t possibly keep himself from leaning into it. His own magic answering her stardust, flickering to life from within.

At first, he didn’t notice. Just like he could sit by to the side as a child while Hanzo drew his magic, feeling nothing where most would feel _everything_.

But as Angela’s magic picked up, as her stardust accepted his magic without hesitation and perhaps without even noticing, there was a tug from inside him. A tug, so very different from everything he had ever felt.

There was no pain.

No agony and no harm.

Only a warmth spreading through his body, replacing the empty spaces his magic left. Warm and secure, like a blanket wrapped around him, white and dark chocolate and dripping honey and rain on his tongue.

And oh.

 _Oh_.

He took a shaky breath, eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes, let all tension and anger he didn’t even know he carried leave him along with his magic. For the first time, he felt _whole_. Drained of everything he had been carrying since he was a child, and yet filled anew with something that felt like _home_. And it was surprising just how much lighter he felt, as if carrying all those emotions and all that magic had grounded him. Like a bird without any wings to begin with.

And then the magic and stardust settled down, and Genji managed to open his eyes again. Saw Angela take a heavy breath, stardust no longer falling off the tips of her hair, and yet still stuck on her cheeks and eyelashes.

She lifted her hand slowly, revealing the smooth glimmering stone within. Large, just a tiny bit larger than her fist, carrying a red so rich and deep it could’ve been blood if not for the golden stardust within, twirling around in a strange sense of calm. 

Both of them stared at the stone, Genji in amazement that something so beautiful could be created. And Angela with wild confusion before she could make out the rain and dark chocolate from her own magic.

“ _You_ ,” she all but hissed, if one could hiss without any venom in their voice. “You combined with me!”

“I’m sorry,” Genji managed, wondered if he had done something bad. But it had felt _so good_ and the result was _amazing_ , and how could that possibly be bad? “I didn’t mean to.”

Angela huffed, narrowed her eyes as she caught his gaze and held it. “Didn’t you learn how to control your magic in school? How _not_ to combine with every magus who use their magic in your presence?”

“No,” Genji answered truthfully, saw the surprise in Angela’s eyes as she sat back in her chair. “I only ever learned how to combine.”

“Huh,” she breathed, stared at him for a second longer as if he was a puzzle she could solve if she stared long enough. “How did it feel? Are you tired? Any pain?”

“No, no pain.” He placed a hand on his chest, felt his heart beating through his skin. Couldn’t feel any pain and couldn’t even feel the _shadow_ of the agony from so long ago, when his magic had been torn from him. Instead, there was a strange _completion_ , a _wholeness_ that hadn’t been there before. “Only warmth.”

And before Angela had any chance of saying anything more, Genji gave her a smile so bright it could rival the stardust on her cheeks. “It felt good. I’ve never, never felt that _good_ before. Does it always feel like that when you combine?”

_When you combine with someone of equal strength?_

The Wish-maker blinked at him, lips parting as if she was just about to answer him, but then she shook her head slowly, turning her attention back to the stone in her hand. Carefully, she dragged a finger over its smooth surface.

“Is it a good stone?” Genji asked a bit hesitantly, moving to the edge of his seat, tips of his toes touching the floor. “The color is pretty.”

“ _The color is pretty_. This stone isn’t just _pretty_!” Angela turned to him, holding up the stone between her fingers, letting the light pass through. Turning the red into a million different shades, all with swirling gold within. “I’ve never created a stone of such quality before! Look at how the light draws forth the shades, see how slow the stardust is moving! Look at the _size_! Here,” she paused, placing the stone in his hands, wrapping his fingers around it. “Do you feel it?”

At first, Genji didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, opened his mouth to tell her so. But then there was a fluttering in his hand, different from the regular hum a wish-stone created.

And it was unmistakably a-

“ _Heartbeat_.”

Angela grinned, leaning in so close, _oh so close_ , until he could see every individual particle of dust upon her eyelashes, glimmering in the light and glimmering with her excitement. “Heartbeat! Genji, this is one of the rarest stones I’ve ever seen! That I’ve ever made! If this is a perfect stone, without any bumps or scratches, we can sell it and-!” She took a deep breath, a vague try to calm herself. “Just imagine the kind of wish you can make with it!”

And Genji grinned along, the tug of his lips lured forth by hers. She placed a hand atop of his, and together they sat there in silence. Feeling the fluttering heartbeat in their hands. But while her eyes were closed, blissful smile upon her lips, Genji only had eyes for her.

Because she wasn’t a Life-bringer, no, but she was a Wish-maker. A magus more powerful than any other, a remnant of a time with monsters, a god of her own. And yet she had never been able to create a stone just like this one on her own, her magic never enough to last the stardust.

Until Genji had stepped foot in her small shop.

And he finally understood why a magus never ruled without a monster by their side.

  
*

 

They created three more stones after that.

One a royal purple, just a bit larger than the first stone now that Genji was invited to combine with her.

One a bright orange color, and when the sunlight filtered through it, it looked like a burning star.

The last a light turquoise, so clear in color it looked like glass, the stardust within seeming to be frozen.

And only when Angela had used every ounce of stardust upon her skin, when Genji felt drained and warm and exhausted for once, did she meet his gaze with a sincerity that seemed to scare them both.

“I can have a contract ready for you tomorrow. And I’ve got an empty room you can use, if you’d like to.” A pause, a nervous shift. “The trial period is for one month, but either of us may choose to quit at any point.”

Genji could only stare at her, not knowing what to say. This whole time, he had prepared himself to turn back home at any time, had expected her to force him to leave in the end after refusing him in the way she did. This was an outcome he hadn’t dared to hope for.  

And Angela cleared her throat, refusing to look at him. “That is, of course, if you would like to be my familiar.”

Genji swallowed, felt as if this chance could be ripped away at any second, and yet it was the only chance he would ever receive. Gently, he took her free hand in his, smiling once she met his gaze.

“It would be an honor.”

 

*

 

Hanzo cornered him once he returned home. Angela had to close the shop, no matter how much Genji had wanted to stay, and he had left only with the fluttering in his chest and the knowledge that he could return. And yet, going home felt strange, didn’t feel like a home at all. Not after being surrounded by the scent of her.

“Where have you been?” Hanzo demanded to know once Genji had stepped into the small apartment. Hadn’t even taken his shoes off yet. “You’ve been gone the whole day.”

And Genji grinned down at him, arms spread wide as if he was open for a hug, even though he knew he would never willingly receive one from his brother. “I was at a Wish-maker’s shop! And I got a job!” A pause, Hanzo staring in disbelief as Genji’s grin widened. “I have a magus now!”

Hanzo took a stumbling step back, finally allowing Genji entrance and he took off his shoes before he swiftly stepped around Hanzo to get to his room. Grabbed a large bag to fit the few things he owned and could bring with him.

“A magus?” Hanzo walked after him, eyes still wide and he didn’t seem to believe what Genji was saying. “I thought you said you couldn’t trust another magus?”

“I still don’t,” Genji answered, packing down his clothes. Paused with a shirt in his hands, looking at nothing as he sighed. “But this magus is _different_. She was covered in stardust and her magic smelled like _home_. I’ve never met someone like that.” A deep breath, and Genji dared to meet Hanzo’s gaze. “She made me feel safe.”

And to that, Hanzo could never hope to argue against. He nodded slowly, walking away even slower, as if he was treading through syrup and was still wrapping his mind around it.

Genji didn’t know why his brother took such a time to accept it. Didn’t know that Hanzo blamed himself for what had happened all those years ago, when Genji’s core almost burst and an ancient law was almost broken. Didn’t know that just as it was hard for Genji to trust someone new, it was hard for Hanzo to entrust him to another, never knowing if Genji would end up hurt or not. If those events from their past would be repeated.

Because Genji was a monster. His scales and claws and teeth might be sealed away, but he still had the growl and still had the power. Could still turn weak magus into dust if they tried to combine with him.

And what human could possibly tame such a beast?

 

*

 

Hana reacted with more grace, answering his text with an array of hearts and sparkles and every possible emoji that might fit. Along with a “ _told you so!!!_ ” and a promise to visit.

 

*

 

The next day, Genji moved in with Angela.

 _With his magus_.

It felt strange to admit it, tasted weird on his tongue, and in that moment it felt like he would never get used to it.

Angela welcomed him with a smile as he entered the small shop, and he couldn’t help but smile back. She showed him the stairs to the second floor, gave him an apologetic and yet encouraging look as the door chimed with a customer.

“My home is upstairs,” he was told. “You can take the second bedroom. It should hold anything you need, but if there’s something missing, just let me know.”

And so he ventured upstairs alone. Just like the shop, it smelled so distinctly of her, of _home_ , without ever being suffocating.

Unlike the dull dust that seemed to coat the furniture.

He coughed in the dusty air, tried to hide his smile behind a hand even though he knew Angela couldn’t see him. He found the kitchen, looking like it was never used except for the microwave and the large stack of dishes in the sink. He found the living room, with a couch that had probably been white once upon a time, and a bathroom that was surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the house. And down the hall he found a large bedroom, looking far from untouched with an unmade bed and a wardrobe that seemed to spew clothes onto the floor, and he closed the door with a strange feeling that he was invading on her privacy.

Just a bit further down the hallway he found his own room.

Covered in an even heavier layer of dust, with air that wasn’t marked with sweet chocolate and honey, but rather carried the remnants of whiskey and old books. It was larger than his room had been in his old home, at _Hanzo’s apartment_ , and it somehow felt a bit too large. A bit too airy.

And way too dusty.

He placed the bag on the floor, tried to wave away the dust he disturbed before he breathed it in.

“Well then,” he whispered, rolling up his sleeves. “Guess I have some work to do.”

 

*

 

The state of the house, which seemed to be falling apart around him, was a fulltime job of its own. He spent hours cleaning his room and making the kitchen usable again, the stack of dirty dishes left for him to wash in the evening.

Angela had checked up on him once in the afternoon, telling him with a bright smile that the stones they had made the previous day were spotless, and had given him the contract to sign. Then she had gone back downstairs without eating lunch.

And so, when she didn’t come upstairs for dinner, the aroma filling the home and had certainly found its way down to the shop as well, Genji became worried. Just a tiny bit. Curious more than anything.

But he guessed that he shouldn’t invade more on her privacy than he already had. He was her familiar, nothing more and nothing less.

He finished his meal in silence, putting lids on the leftovers so whenever Angela returned, there was a hope that the food would still be lukewarm. Then he washed the dishes to the faint sound of an old radio playing, humming along softly.

Thinking that this wasn’t so bad after all.

 

*

 

The first night he woke just an hour after midnight to Angela’s steps in the stairs.

The sound of a microwave reheating a cold dinner.

 

*

 

“Today, I’ll need your help with some stones,” she spoke over breakfast, hair a mess and with bags under her eyes. But it was a wonder she could speak at all, in the rate she was swallowing the pancakes he had made. “The ones we made yesterday are already sold, and I received some requests for more.”

And Genji smiled at her, warmth in his chest at the sight and at her words.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

 

*

 

After a long shower, with steam curling from beneath the door and slipping into the home, Angela seemed energetic enough to stay awake for the day. She went past him, about to go downstairs to open the shop, when she paused and met his eyes.

He realized he was staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asked, narrowed her eyes at him.

He quickly shook his head, hands in the air. “No, no! I just, I didn’t think you had so much stardust.”

That made her pause, that strange look in her eyes again as they widened just a bit.

Because he spoke the truth. Stardust fell off her skin and damp hair like a cascade of glitter. In the mornings, he would come to find out, she looked like a creature of glitter and gold, made from stardust until the first stone was created.

And it was such a beautiful sight that Genji never wanted to look away.

They went down to the shop in silence, Genji trying his hardest not to stare, but Angela caught him more than once, and on the third time she seemed to figure out _why_ he was staring. Her look turned into a smug smile and a knowing glint in her blue eyes.

It was the first day Genji got to spend in the shop, an exciting thrill in his stomach as he was allowed to unlock the front door. Angela took her seat at her desk, clearing a space in front of her. Meeting his eye and patting the chair next to hers.

He sat down, feeling like the first time he was let out of the castle grounds, still trying his best to suffocate those feelings, to keep his head above the surface of magic.

“You don’t have to do that,” Angela spoke, taking his hand in hers in a firm grip that seemed to ground him. ”Don’t hold back your emotions and your magic. Nothing will happen if you let it go.” A pause, a light squeeze. “I’m here for you.”

It took a moment before Genji remembered to breathe again, and slowly with the help of his magus, he began to relax. To let his excitement flow without hindrance, fueling his magic, feeling it flare within him. And he was so scared, _so very scared,_ of losing control and overburdening his core. Of hurting Angela.

But she took that magic from him before any harm could fall, replacing it once again with warmth and the sense of security. A warm hug around his soul. Stardust falling off her being, twinkling in the air before dying out like tiny little flames.

And in their hands, a stone was created. Large and heavy and smooth, a soft pastel pink.

Created from stardust and excitement.

 

*

 

It took three days before Hana came to visit.

She opened the door carefully, as if she shouldn’t actually be there, and she peeked in with large eyes. Lingering on the many stones, the large ones on a special display, before she found Genji, who was fidgeting in the back and still unsure of what to do and what his role was in the shop when he wasn’t creating stones with Angela. But Hana shone up, regained her confidence, and stepped in.

The bell chimed above.

“Hana!” Genji stopped fidgeting, walking up to his friend and Angela looked up from her workplace. “Welcome to _Wishes of Mercy_!”

Hana grinned, meeting him halfway through the shop with a light punch to his stomach. “See! I told you it would all be fine if you went!”

“Hah, yeah, thanks,” Genji said, rubbing his stomach. Then he straightened up, turned slightly to gesture to Angela, a smile slipping onto his lips. “This is Angela, the Wish-maker.”

A pause, wondering if he should say it or not and then decided that it wouldn’t harm.

“My magus.”

And Hana’s bunny ears stood straight up as she gave a shy wave to Angela, gaze lingering at the stardust falling off her hair and eyelashes. She took a few deep breaths, breathing in the air.

“Nice to meet you! Genji talks a lot about you and how amazing you are!” Hana said, completely ignoring the color rising to Genji’s cheeks and Angela’s soft laughter and flickering gaze to her familiar. “But really, can’t blame him! These stones are amazing!”

“They have certainly improved in quality and size since Genji and I started to combine,” Angela hummed, ran her finger down the stone she held before placing it in the pile of stones going on sale. The pile next to it, the one with faulty stones, was small and was only growing smaller for every day that passed.

“You like it here then?” Hana asked, looking up at Genji.

And Genji smiled, visibly relaxing. “It feels like home.”

Hana gave him an odd look at that, as if he had said something strange. But then she shrugged, letting it slip past, whatever it was she had picked up on. “Looks good then! A bit too expensive for me to buy something for Lúcio, but perhaps in the future.” A pause, a finger tapping at her chin as she thought. “Actually, if you have some free time someday, you should join us for a couple of drinks! Or join us at the arcade! They’re releasing a new game soon, totally hyped, and I think you’d like it.”

“Thank you,” Genji said. “I’ll think about it.”

Hana grinned back up at him, feeling perhaps for the first time that she had seen the Genji that he was trying so desperately to hide underneath a surface of politeness and insecurity. Feeling some hope that he finally hadn’t refused her suggestion straight away.

Standing up from the desk, Angela joined their side for proper introductions, shaking Hana’s hand and smiling at her wide-eyed look as stardust flickered down on their hands, lingering in her palm.

“I understand that I have you to thank for Genji’s presence here,” Angela said, gesturing towards the largest of stones they had created. “Since you’re a dear friend of Genji’s, I can offer you a discount. If you would ever like to give a gift to someone close.”

Hana nodded with bunny ears swaying, eyes large and grin even larger. She leaned in close to Genji, hand at her mouth and yet speaking loud and clear for Angela to hear as well. “I really, _really_ like her.”

Genji’s smile faltered as he looked at Angela, saw the way she smiled with warmth on her cheeks, tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear. A fluttering in his stomach, breath threatened to be stolen away, and then Angela met his gaze, a questioning tilt of her head. Stardust raining down on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, words only Hana could hear, a warmth upon his cheeks. “I do too.”

 

*

 

Genji began getting used to having dinner in silence, alone in the empty home. It was rare for Angela to return home before midnight, and he always woke to the sound of her steps in the stairs.

And then one evening, with a delicious meal waiting to be eaten, dessert cooling in the fridge, he decided that _no_. He was not going to let her eat alone in the middle of the night no more. And he knew where to find her, went downstairs still wearing the colorful apron he had found in the pile of dirty, now clean, clothes.

She was still in the shop, hunched over the desk with feet dangling off the floor, tongue between her teeth as she carefully examined a small stone, no larger than a fingernail.

Genji paused at the sight, his heart doing a strange jump, and he felt himself relax. Then, gently, he knocked on the doorframe, gaining her attention as she snapped up and span around to look at him.

“I made dinner,” he said, shifted his weight from foot to foot. “It’s still warm, if you’d like some.”

“Dinner? How long have I…?“ She gave him a confused look before glancing up at the clock on the wall, immediately sinking down in the chair as she realized it was long past closing time. And as on cue, her stomach growled.

“I’ll close the shop,” Genji offered, already making his way through the room.

Behind him, he heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, then the gentle footsteps in the stairs. It lured forth a smile on his lips, and once he returned upstairs, he found her sitting by the table, eating like a starved.

He didn’t comment on it, simply filled a plate of his own and sat down across from her. They ate in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward or strange at all. Only relaxing.

Like home.

 

*

 

Angela lived for her work. She was a bridge between those with magic and those without, and it made her work the more important.

But it had also begun to tear at her.

More often than not, Angela skipped lunch and would’ve probably forgotten about dinner as well if Genji hadn’t been there to remind her.

And just as often, on the days where they had created stones after stones, she would return to the shop after dinner. To work just a little longer, to make it easier for the day that followed. And every time, Genji would find her there in the early mornings, sleeping soundly.

Suddenly, the heavy layers of dust in the house made sense.

 

*

 

It didn’t take long for Genji to notice.

And once he did, he started to help her. Small changes here and there, just to make it easier for her.

A plate of food carried down during lunch, never thanked for vocally, but she no longer trembled in the late afternoon and she always came up for dinner.

A gentle reminder when the clock started to tick away in the evenings, when she was still in the shop after dinner, and sometimes Genji would be a bit too late and then a thick blanket would help more than he could. Other times, when she was so sound asleep she snored ever so softly, he would pick her up and carry her to bed. Tucking her in with a skipping heart.

A house kept sparkling clean whenever Genji wasn’t needed in the shop, food always ready for lunch and dinner, sometimes with an additional sweet snack in the afternoon.

Life was made a little easier for her, and perhaps this was what she had needed all along.

What they had both needed.

 

*

 

During the days that followed, with the more stones created and magic drained from his core, the more often Genji’s magic was used and the more Angela took his hand and whispered encouragements. The more he could let go of his control.

It was hard at first, to not be so overly conscious of his every emotion, to not try and reel them in and to feel _nothing_. To ignore everything he had been taught and everything he had known his whole life. To come to the realization that it would no longer hurt those close to him.

But once he had learned how to let go, how to relax without fear, because if his magic flared then there was help in the shape of warmth and kindness. Then it was hard to regain control again.

Soon, he found that he didn’t want to.

Because there was a freedom in letting his laughter become the first rain after days of sunshine and dark chocolate a cold winter’s day. To let his kindness turn into the cherry blossoms in spring and ink upon old parchment. To let his natural warmth and beating heart turn into the weightlessness of a bird in flight and the thrill in its stomach as it reaches for _freedom_.

And he found himself wondering, as he laughed at one of Angela’s jokes over dinner, if he truly had lived a single day of his life up until that point. The point where he finally stopped trying to control his emotions, when he let go of his painful past, when he began living like the familiar he was.

Feeling and free.

 

*

 

The customers began to recognize him. How could they not, when Angela had never had a familiar stay this long before, and who greeted them all with kind smiles and flavorful magic in the air.

They made his job a little easier, drawing him into conversation and questions about the stones that he could actually answer. Initiating contact when he was unsure if he should or not. And it was easier for Angela as well, allowing her to continue her work undisturbed.

It was awkward at first, to be dragged along in the shop by older ladies and men who commented on his kind eyes and how much calmer Angela seemed now that he was there. To approach teenagers who giggled amongst themselves and spoke in hushed whispers when Genji asked if he could help, shy smiles and flushed cheeks at his helpfulness. To try and answer all the strange questions the regulars gave him, of how magic felt like and how it was working with Angela and what kind of emotion had gone through in that specific stone.

Genji didn’t notice, had nothing to compare to, but the small shop became increasingly popular. Stones of the highest quality, price sinking and sinking the more the two combined, the way everyone felt welcome and at home, from confident regulars to unsure magus and familiars.

And soon, Genji regained his confidence as well.

He started to remember how to smile to make others falter in their words and steps, how to exaggerate a story just enough to ensure the best answer to any question he received, how to be himself amongst a group of people he didn’t know. And it earned him giggles and longing looks and loving pinches in his cheeks.

And he caught Angela more and more often staring at him. But every time he would meet her gaze, she would look away just as quickly, hunched over her work until a customer came and disturbed her.

Genji wasn’t sure what it meant.

 

*

 

With their increasing popularity, with the smaller stones now affordable by anyone with a monthly salary, their shop became just as increasingly busy.

And Angela’s bad habits picked up once more.

“You haven’t touched your lunch,” Genji said, holding the plate full of cool food.

Angela didn’t look up from her work. “Sorry, I just need to finish this stone.”

A soft sigh left Genji’s lips, and he put down the plate again. Hesitating only a second or two before placing his hands on her shoulders. She tensed up just a moment before relaxing into his touch.

“You need to eat,” he spoke, voice but a murmur that made her shiver. Perhaps, he thought, she was just cold. “And you need to take breaks. Come, let’s reheat the food. I’ll take care of the shop while you eat.”

There was a hesitation, a doubting look at the pile of stones that was waiting for her, one they had created that morning. At first, it didn’t seem like she was going to move, but then she sighed and stood up, let Genji gently guide her upstairs and warmed her food. Let him wrap her in a warm blanket, a lingering touch on her shoulder and a promise of dessert in the fridge.

He returned down to the shop by himself, cleaned up her workspace to make it easier for her return, smiled at the customers and helped where he was needed.

The day passed quickly that way, and Genji didn’t see a glimpse of Angela after lunch. And only when the shop was closed and he returned upstairs once again to cook some dinner, did he find her asleep at the table. Half-eaten cup of chocolate mousse by her side.

Trying his best not to wake her, he whispered soft murmurs of nothingness in her ear, carrying her to her own bed. And she mumbled nothingness back to him in her sleep, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck, breathing a hot breath against him that made his heart flutter just so.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he might have lingered a little longer after she was safe and sound in her bed. And perhaps, only just _perhaps_ , he might have leaned down to press his lips against her forehead.

But it was a secret he never told anyone.

 

*

 

Three and a half weeks into the trial period, Hana visited again, this time with her boyfriend at her side. And just like she had marveled at the stones around them, so did Lúcio.

“Welcome,” Angela greeted, having taken one of her breaks that Genji had talked her into, with a voice so warm and with hands trailing down her back to ease any knots, and she couldn’t possibly refuse him then. “Are you looking for anything special?”

“We are!” Hana said, tugging Lúcio along to greet Angela. “We’re going on a short vacation, celebrating Lúcio’s birthday, and we heard about the _Skybase_! Thought it could be fun, but you can only get there if you can _fly_ and neither bunnies nor regulars can fly, so…”

She trailed off with a shrug, Lúcio shifting by her side, and Angela smiled. “Sounds exciting! You’re looking for a medium stone then; it can grant you the ability to fly for three days straight.”

Angela led them through the shop, showing them the medium sized stones, which had previously been classified as large stones before she and Genji grew stronger in their combining. Smooth and colorful, all oval in shape.

“The price is the same for each of these, and I’ll keep my promise of the discount.” She paused, giving Hana a wink. “Just pick a color of your liking!”

And while the couple tried to decide together, Angela leaved them to it, joining Genji’s side instead. Stood perhaps a little too close, their arms brushing, stardust smeared against Genji’s skin and lingering, drawn to his magic like a magnet.

“They’re cute together,” Angela whispered and Genji followed her gaze, watching his friend and her partner arguing, in the kindest way possible, about colors. “She seems like a really good friend.”

“She is,” Genji whispered back. “She was the first person I met that didn’t seem scared of me. She practically forced me into a friendship, but I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

“Probably not here,” Angela hummed, leaned against Genji as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And Genji leaned back, heart beating faster in his chest and it felt like they were doing something _forbidden_ even though it felt so natural and good. “Remind me to thank Lena and Emily properly as well. They do have some good ideas. Sometimes.”

“I will,” he mumbled, daring to look down on her. And all he could see was a mess of blonde hair and stardust, fluttering eyelashes as she watched the shop, the shadow of a smile on her lips. And he wondered what it would feel like, to lean down and capture those lips with his own.

At a shelf just a bit away, Hana paused and looked over at them. A grin on her lips as she nudged Lúcio’s side, making him look up as well.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“For them?” She shook her head slowly, arms crossed over her chest as she studied them. “Probably a while longer.”

 

*

 

Hana and Lúcio returned home a few weeks later, inviting Genji out on a few drinks.

This time, Genji accepted. Met with them in the company of Angela, held an excuse that it would be good for them both to get out of the shop a bit more, to breathe new air.

And Hana talked for hours about their vacation, about the _Skybase_ and about the wish-stones.

How the magic within tasted like rich chocolate and dripping honey.

 

*

 

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he had started falling for her.

Perhaps it was the very first day when he had stepped into the small shop, not knowing what to expect and then seeing _her_ amongst the glistering stones.

Perhaps it was when they started doing the chores together, washing the dishes together and realizing with water up to their elbows that it was feeling strangely domestic.

Perhaps it was when he woke up in the mornings, just a bit earlier than her and could serve her breakfast in bed, when he could watch the sunshine light up the stardust in her hair and upon her skin, like she was a mythical being. As if she truly was a goddess of a time long lost.

He let it slip into his magic, his love for her. Warm and sweet, like the welcoming hug of a loved one after an eternity of separation.

The stones they created with love slipping past were larger than before, more _colorful_ than before, with stardust so slow it didn’t move at all, forever stuck in intricate patterns. And if Angela had guessed why, she never said.

 

*

 

Neither of them noticed when the trial period ended.

Perhaps neither of them cared.

Carried on like usual with soft smiles and lingering gazes.

 

*

 

The day after the trial period was over, Hanzo came for his first visit. It seemed like he had been dragged there by Jesse, the familiar smiling from ear to ear. Hanzo, on the other hand, seemed gloomier than ever, giving Jesse occasional glares and yet clinging on his arm for support.

Angela was the one who greeted them, wishing them welcome and smiling politely, offering her help. And both Hanzo and Jesse lingered, stared at her like any magus and familiar did, golden stardust falling off her eyelashes as she blinked.

They looked around the shop for a bit, Jesse pointing at every stone he saw, praising the color and shape. Genji only noticed them the second time they passed him, busy helping other customers find stones fit for their needs. At first, he wasn’t completely sure how to react, because Hanzo hadn’t visited for the whole month he had been there, only came _now_. As if he had completely forgotten about Genji. And yet he felt a pang of shame, because during these weeks, he hadn’t had a single thought of his brother either.

So after he had waved goodbye to the last customer, a regular who visited once a week for yet another stone to help her garden, he took a deep breath and went up to his brother and Jesse.

“See anything you like?”

The pair looked up at him, Jesse smiling and Hanzo looking almost stunned.

Genji shifted a bit where he stood.

“These are all very impressive!” Jesse said, the first to break the awkward silence between them. “I’ve come here once before, but the stones were never this large nor this cheap! You ‘n Angela must’ve been working wonders!”

“It’s quite a wonderful sensation, to create these,” Genji said, reaching out to pick up a stone. Large and blue. Like the ocean in a storm. He gave it to Jesse, watching the man hold the stone in his large hands, so very carefully as if he was afraid of dropping it. Watched as his eyes widened, lips parting, and there was something in his eyes, a strange sense of _nostalgia_.

“It feels just like-“ Jesse mumbled, interrupted himself with a sharp breath, staring down at the stone as if it held the answer to every secret in the world.

“Just like a heartbeat,” Genji filled in for him instead, noticed how Hanzo watched him closely. And he waited just for a moment longer before he gently took the stone from Jesse’s hands, placing it back in the shelf, Angela’s spells bending around him.

“You seem to work well together. You and that Wish-maker,” Hanzo spoke up, shifted his gaze and cleared his throat. He paused, letting warmth spread in Genji’s chest and it closely resembled something alike pride. “The stones radiate power. It would be interesting to see how they can be used, what limitations they have.” Another pause, gaze finding Jesse’s and there was something unsaid between them. “If they can restore a core once removed.”

At that, Genji shrugged, didn’t want to be the one to carry the bad news, and yet didn’t want them to live with a false sense of hope either. They had already been taught as children that a core that had once been removed could never be created once again.

A familiar turned regular could not be changed.

“There’s limits to everything. Angela told me.” A soft sigh slipping past his lips and he forced himself to keep Hanzo’s eye. “If you make a wish too large for the stone, it’ll just disappear. And a wish only lasts so long before it fades. It would be impossible to use a wish-stone as a substitute for a core.”

There was a pause in the air and he quickly glanced up at Jesse.

“Sorry.”

They still bought a stone, one with a pretty turquoise color, one Genji and Angela had created just a day before. One of the best stones they had made. Genji wrapped the stone in silken paper, listening with a smile as Jesse talked about everything and nothing, and it was nice to hear such mundane things again. To hear of old friends.

And then a warm hand was placed on his free hand, Angela coming up to stand just next to him, surrounding him in white chocolate and honey and it was a scent he could never get enough of. Stardust flickering over to his skin and lingering.

“Are you friends of Genji’s?” she asked kindly, looking both of them over more properly than she had done when they had entered.

“I’m his brother, Hanzo,” he all but huffed, a short nod of greeting to the Wish-maker. “And this is Jesse.”

And Angela shone up with a smile. “I believe Genji has mentioned you! It’s a pleasure to meet you both!” A pause, a curious glance to Genji with yet another one of her questions which he never knew how to answer. “Perhaps you would like to stay for dinner? Genji makes the most delicious food, and it’s the more delicious if you share it with others!”

While Hanzo looked like he was about to refuse, giving some polite excuse as he always did, Jesse cut in with a charming smile and a drawl in his voice that still sent shivers down Genji’s spine. And Hanzo melted by his side, the battle lost.

“Would be a pleasure! Sure missed your cooking, Genji!”

 

*

 

The dinner that evening was without tension, filled with laughter and colorful stories of everything Genji had missed since he moved out. And he found out that Jesse was indeed a familiar with his core removed, the story of criminal days told with a small smile and a reassuring closeness from Hanzo, and he learned that the two of them had moved in together shortly after Genji had moved out.

“Apparently it’s custom, to live with your familiar,” Hanzo explained, looking up at Angela across the table. Cleared his throat, gathered courage and for the first time since they had started running, Genji saw no tiredness in his eyes. “Thank you for what you’ve done for Genji.”

And Angela smiled, warmth on her cheeks as she looked down at the table, a smile playing on her lips, and Genji leaned closer to bump his shoulder into hers.

“I should be the one to thank him,” she said, hand finding his underneath the table, fingers intertwining, and when she looked up to meet his gaze, there was a warmth that stole his breath away. “For what he’s done for me and for my shop… I can’t express my gratitude enough.”

And if only Hanzo and Jesse hadn’t been there, then perhaps Genji would’ve leaned down and kissed her.

 

*

 

Jesse and Hanzo became loyal customers of the small shop, Hanzo buying stones as gifts once a week, and Jesse coming by just as often.

“I have tried many wish-stones in my days,” Jesse told Genji one evening, just a few minutes before they would close the shop, when it was the calmest. When Angela was tidying up her workplace, ready to go upstairs and prepare dinner and couldn’t overhear them.

And Jesse leaned closer, the faintest trail of stardust on his neck, clinging to the faded magic of his last stone.

“These are the only ones that feel like magic should.”

 

*

 

Most of the customers were regulars, and it was easy to tell because they didn’t smell of magic and didn’t carry any stardust, and they never stared at Angela’s golden shine because they couldn’t see it in the first place.

So when the magus smelling of mahogany and cinder stepped in, Genji immediately looked up, the doorbell chiming a second later. He quickly glanced over at Angela, standing at the desk and humming softly to herself, wrapping a stone in colorful gift paper for another customer.

“Welcome to _Wishes of Mercy_ ,” Genji greeted. A shiver running down his spine as the magus turned to him. “How can I help you?”

The magus grunted, looking more like a snarl upon his rough face. He stepped closer to Genji and instinctively, Genji took a step back, heart speeding up in his chest and there was _something_ about this man that reminded him of a night of ashes.

“I believe you can,” the magus spoke, voice hoarse as if he had been breathing fire. “Do you know of _The Ashes_?”

Genji swallowed, recognized it immediately. Had been taught about it as a child, of the time before magus developed a magical core, when monsters like him still roamed the Earth.

“The Ashes,” the magus continued, grinning at Genji’s reaction, missing multiple teeth. His breath so foul that Genji once again stepped back. “A _wonderful_ time full of opportunity. When monsters were _needed_.” A pause, the man looking around the shop with a scowl on his face before he settled back on Genji. “There are magus who can offer you something better than this. Something more fit for someone of your _caliber_.”

Genji stumbled back just another step, bumping into a case of stones, fighting old memories that tried to resurface.

This man was dangerous. He was dark and foul and _oh so very dangerous_ , and Genji wanted nothing to do with him, instincts roaring at him to escape. But he couldn’t turn into a dragon and escape like he had that night, couldn’t move at all. Because just behind him, at the desk with stardust falling off her hair and with a smile so warm it could melt any heart, was someone who he wanted to protect in every way he could.

He would rather die than allow harm upon Angela.

“I believe,” Genji started, took a shallow breath, let his anger fuel his magic. Thick and heavy in the air, threatening to anyone with sense still left in their minds. “That you should leave. I suggest you don’t ever come back.”

The magus looked him over, nodding slowly before a grin spread on his cracked lips, hand reaching out to cup Genji’s chin. “Very well. But I sure hope that you come to your senses soon. After all, this is no place for a monster, nor for a _Shimada_.”

And Genji’s heart stopped, skipped a beat and clenched in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe and-

A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, the scent of white chocolate and dripping honey surrounding him, allowing him to breathe once more. Angela met the magus’ gaze, a rumble beneath their feet, and when she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous and unmatched on this Earth.

“ _Leave_.” 

As if struck, the magus flinched back, no longer touching Genji’s skin and he coughed, trying to regain his breath.

The man met Genji’s eye, seemingly unaffected by Angela’s presence and yet his lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “We’ll be in touch.”

He said nothing more as he backed out of the shop, soon disappearing down the street, and only when he could no longer be seen, did Angela relax. Fingers finding Genji’s and a hand on his cheek.

“Are you ok? What happened?” She whispered, searching his face for something, _anything_ , which could tell her the truth. “Genji, who was that?”

“I-“ he swallowed, couldn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Someone _dark_.”

She kept close to him just a while longer before she pulled away ever so slightly, turning to the other customers, all of which were staring at them and at the door. “I apologize for what you saw. I will not allow it to happen again.” A pause, a lingering glance at Genji. “I’m afraid that we will close early for today. I hope you understand.”

The customers walked out of the store, softly mumbling and trying to understand what had happened because they couldn’t taste the thickness in the air. The threat that still lingered. Angela never left Genji’s side, gently tugging him along to lock the door, soft murmurs underneath her breath as she put up magical wards. Trying to protect them from any darkness that might wish to enter.

“Come,” she spoke then, turning off the lights in the shop as they went upstairs. Genji stumbling after, couldn’t stop the trembling of his hands and the numbness in his bones as he regained control over his emotions. Letting not a single drop of fear slip past his fingers.

He was wrapped in layers of blankets, a bowl of soup soon in his hands as they had a simple dinner together. Angela didn’t ask any questions, kept a watchful eye on him. Whispered magic and coated his skin with stardust until his trembling stopped and that fearful look in his eyes disappeared. Until he looked up and met her gaze and thanked her for the meal in a voice that was no longer hollow of fear and old memories.

“Genji,” she spoke once they were about to part for the night. He paused, turned and met her gaze. Her fingers intertwined with his. “You are safe here, don’t forget that.”

And that, Genji never forgot.

 

*

 

That night, the past caught up with him.

It came hunting for him in his dreams, as if he was being punished for finally getting comfortable, for finally being secure, for finally finding a magus of his own. It smelled like mahogany and cinder, burnt into his mind and burning and burning and _burning_ like ashes swirling around him, tugging at him from within.

And he startled awake with his voice stuck in his throat, sitting straight up in his bed with a heaving chest because he couldn’t _breathe_ , sweat dripping down his neck and forehead. Hands trembling. Fear slipping past.

Without thinking, he got up from his bed, gathered his blanket in his arms, because _Hanzo_ was safe and he could sleep over at _Hanzo’s_ room like he always did when he had a nightmare. And he paused in the hallway, just one step from Angela’s room, when he remembered that no, the only magus there was Angela.

He wasn’t a child who could go running to his brother’s room whenever he was frightened. He should be able to handle this himself, shouldn’t bother Angela.

But he couldn’t move.

Torn between fear and security.

A moment later, the door opened, and a sleepy Angela with messy hair and tired eyes looked up at him. Noted his blanket, the glistering sweat on his skin, the fear in his eyes.

“Nightmare?” she asked, blinked, then stepped aside for him to enter. “It’s ok, I get those too. It helps to sleep next to someone.”

He hesitated at the door, only for a moment, before he followed her to the bed, keeping a respectful distance between them, wrapped up in their own blankets.

“Sleep well, Genji,” Angela mumbled, turned to face him with stardust glistering on the pillows. Like a million stars at midnight. Soft mumbles of magic leaving her lips, and Genji couldn’t make out the words.

He fought sleep for just a couple of minutes longer, watching Angela fall asleep with lips slightly parted, stardust glistering to life on her skin and in her hair.

With that sight filling his mind, Genji too fell asleep. 

 

*

 

Soon, Genji no longer returned to his own room for the night.

And neither of them minded, fell asleep so much easier in the warmth and comfort of each other.

 

*

 

“What kind of animal are you?”

The question made Genji pause, thinking for a second that perhaps he had heard wrong. But as he looked at the regular who had spoken, the woman smiled curiously at him. As if he was keeping a secret she should know about.

“Uhm,” he began, cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m not really good at these things, you see. With familiars and magus and all,” the regular said, giving a small laughter as if she hadn’t just asked something one should never ask a familiar. Not because it was necessarily _rude_ , but because it was a question with an answer some familiar chose not to share.  

She looked Genji over, suddenly a bit unsure of herself. “But you _are_ Angela’s familiar, aren’t you?”

A deep breath, a forced smile on his lips, reminding himself that this was only a regular who was simply curious. No one who wished him any harm with their words. “I am, yes.”

“So?” The woman dragged out the _o_ on her lips, moving slightly closer to Genji. “I’ve never seen you in your animal shape! Most familiars shift once in a while, don’t they? Most familiars I’ve met prefer to be in their animal shape!”

“Oh yes, I’ve been curious about that too!” Another customer piped up, someone relatively new to their shop. “Familiars are the strongest when they’re in their other shape. Why aren’t you?”

And Genji swallowed, mind running fast to try and come up with some excuse as to why they’ve never seen him in his animal shape. He couldn’t possibly tell them the truth, knew that even regulars would know of the shame of having your other shape sealed away. Could only imagine the new questions and the demand to see his back, of the green dragon sealed into his skin through ink and pain.

“Perhaps,” he said, reverted back to a charming smile and faked confidence that came easier to him nowadays. “My animal shape is so large that I couldn’t possibly fit in this room. Or perhaps it is so small that I would be afraid of being stepped on.”

The two customers _oohed_ at his answer, eyes shining up.

“Are you a whale?”

“A flea? I know someone who’s a tiny mouse!”

“Perhaps a giraffe?”

“Or are you _venomous_?”

Genji stood by to the side, only smiled at their many guesses and never answered if they were correct or not. And their guesses grew wilder and wilder, from skunks and great white sharks, to eagles and badgers.

“Oh, oh! A chimaera!” One of them guessed, looked over at Genji with excitement and he paused, didn’t know _what_ _to say_ because that was the closest to the truth they had gotten.

“Don’t be silly!” The other regular huffed, hands on her hips. “I may not know much about the magical world, but I _do know_ that chimaera and, what are they called? _Monsters_? Anyway, they’re all just stories! They don’t exist!”

“But they did once! And every once in a while, they appear again!” The customer said, arms crossing over their chest. “ _You_ might not know a lot about magic and stuff, but _I_ do!”

They both looked over at Genji, expecting him to say something, to say that one was right and the other was wrong. He only gave them a light shrug, a silent plea that they wouldn’t involve him any further, because if they did then he might admit something he would regret.

When he didn’t say anything, they both turned over to Angela, who was watching them from a distance with a smile on her lips. There were no other customers in the shop anyway, and who was she to pass up on a perfect opportunity of entertainment?

“Miss Wish-maker!” One of the regulars said, voice booming in the small shop. “Chimaeras are just stories, aren’t they? All familiars are _animals_!”

“Actually,” Angela said, walking up to them to avoid the screaming. “My dear friend is a gryphon, a chimaera of old. They do exist, they are simply very rare. Just as rare as powerful magus. But instead of the shape of an animal, they take the shape of something more fit of their power. A shape that can survive their magic.”

The two regulars nodded slowly, throwing quick glances at Genji, probably figuring that he too was a strong familiar to be able to match Angela. And that he too must be a chimaera. That, or a monster.

“So, what are Genji?”

Angela hesitated, meeting Genji’s gaze and he tried his best not to fidget. Because he had never told her of his past nor of his shape, and she had never asked him, perhaps with the trust that he would tell her sooner or later when he was ready.

“To be honest, I do not know,” Angela spoke slowly, as if she was thinking through every word as they were spoken. “I have never seen him change, nor have I asked him. However, while it is true that a familiar is the strongest in their animal shape, I believe we are combining well as it is.”

She put an end to the conversation with that, gaze lingering on Genji as she tried not to stare, a new question awoken. She remained distracted for the rest of the day, showed in her clumsiness as she walked into Genji twice and accidentally dropped a stone on the floor.

And that evening, after they had closed the shop and had a dinner upstairs, Genji finally spoke up.

“There’s something on your mind.”

Angela blinked, looking like she hadn’t realized that herself until Genji pointed it out. She cleared her throat, sat straighter up in the couch and turned towards him. Twirled a loose strand of her hair on her finger, stardust no longer coating her after a long day, only faded remains on her cheeks visible.

“Well, uhm, I’ve been thinking of what those two customers said earlier today,” she began, paused, and placed her hands in her lap to stop them from fidgeting. “And I realized that it was something we never discussed. I mean, I don’t think it matters what kind of animal you are or if you’re a chimaera or something else. We work well together and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just,” she fumbled for words, finally finding his gaze, visibly melting. “Curious.”

Genji took a deep breath, made a decision that he should’ve made a long time ago, couldn’t figure out why he had never told her. And yet, there was that fear in his chest, ridiculous as it might seem, hindering him from admitting what he was. What he truly was.

“My brother and I,” he began, took yet another deep breath. “We grew up in a very bad place. Our family had the belief that a magus don’t need a familiar, that people like me were unnecessary. I tried to flee, and they tried to use my magic for-“

A sharp intake of breath, stopping himself before he spoke too much. And a warm hand was placed on his, keeping him grounded. Warmth trying its best to chase fear away.

“My other shape was sealed away,” he continued, voice lower, calmer. “But I believe they feared me too much to let me live. Hanzo helped me escape.”

 _Helped me escape the day before my execution_.

“Are,” Angela began, paused and moved closer, leaning against him and letting him do the same. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you? Are they still after you?” A pause, a sudden realization. “Was that dark man someone from your past?”

And somehow, her questions and her concern made it easier to bear, reminded him that it all happened in the past. That although it was still a part of him, had shaped him into the person he was then, he still had the power to not let it define him.

To accept it for what it was.

And move on.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, a smile slipping onto his lips, thumb gently smoothing out the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I’m fine now. Even though I can never change shape again and even though I can never again fly, I’m all fine.” Fingers cupping her chin, and she was _oh so very close_ , blue eyes widening. Stardust flickering to life on her eyelashes as she blinked. “I’m with you, so how can I not be?”

He seemed to have stolen her breath away, her lips parting without a sound slipping past, but then she blinked, swallowed, and spoke. “Were you a bird?”

And Genji laughed, brushing over her cheek to tug that stray lock of hair behind her ear. Felt her shiver under his touch.

“No, but my father sometimes called me _Sparrow_.”

“Sparrow,” she repeated, like a new name spoken into existence. And although it was a name never spoken aloud again, it felt like forgiveness for a night of ashes.

An apology spoken too late from the grave, through the lips of Life herself.

 

*

 

As summer drew close, freckles started to appear on Angela’s skin. At first, they were hard to see, hidden beneath stardust and warmth. But Genji caught a glance of them, in the evening when Angela sat close to him in the couch, a movie playing on the TV and its light casting shadows upon her cheeks.

It made him pause, look again.

“Do I have something on my face again?” Angela asked, smile playing on her lips and Genji matched it so easily.

“I believe,” he murmured, leaned closer, thumb on her chin to tilt her head up just a bit, and her eyes widened with warmth spreading on her cheeks. “That you have freckles.”

“Freckles?”

A soft hum, thumb brushing her lower lip and she parted them for him, neither of them conscious of what they were doing. Only went with what felt _right_.

“It’s very pretty,” he continued, leaning closer until he could see the afterglow of stardust on her eyelids. “Like constellations of stars.”

In his eyes, she was like a solar system. A galaxy with constellations of stars upon her cheeks and spreading over the bridge of her nose, the remnant of those stars spread across her skin and hair in the form of a golden dust. Telling a million tales without a single word.

There was a tremble in her lower lip as she leaned closer to him, gaze flickering down before finding his eyes again. Warm breath upon his skin and her eyes were _so_ _blue_ and _if only_ he leaned closer and closed that gap, _if only_ he pressed his lips to hers, _if only_ he could taste her.

“Ah,” he breathed, warm flush on his own cheeks and he pulled back with a startle, turning his gaze back to the TV as if nothing had happened at all. “This is my favorite part.”

He didn’t know how Angela reacted, only felt her heavy sigh as she leaned heavily on his side, head resting on his shoulder. And he thought that perhaps he was forgiven for his cowardice when she let him wrap an arm around her.

 

*

 

Genji grew a bit bolder after that, after every instance where he or Angela leaned just a little bit closer, gaze flickering down with a silent _want_. Many years ago, before he and Hanzo fled their clan, he wouldn’t have hesitated before he leaned down and kissed her. Would’ve kissed her a long time ago, would’ve spoken of her beauty and breathed his love upon her skin without a moment of uncertainty.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to.

But just like he had learned how to stop running and yet move on in his own pace. Just like he had learned how to trust magus again. Just how he had learned how to let his emotions be what they were without an ounce of shame. He could learn how to regain that courage.

And so, he started small.

Fingers brushing against hers whenever they passed each other by.

Lips brushing over her knuckles, soft kisses to each of them, whenever they held hands.

Murmurs of sweet nonsense ghosting over her skin just moments before they fell asleep, foreheads pressed together.

And as she saw his tries, those small signs of affection, she began to do the same.

Magic whispered into the air, followed with a sweet scent of chocolate and honey, a constant warmth surrounding Genji.

Stardust lingering on his skin whenever their fingers brushed, coating his lips as he kissed her knuckles, a trail across his forehead as he wished her the sweetest of dreams.

Closeness turning into hugs, arms wrapped around him and the first time it happened, he had no idea what to do or how to react until Angela rested her chin on his shoulder. Breath ghosting over his neck and he hugged her back, breathing into her scent that he now knew by heart.

These signs of affection soon came as natural to them like breathing, every touch and every content sigh laced with three small words that were never spoken out loud.

 

*

 

There was a shift within them. Invisible to the eye and yet unmistakably there, with pain eased from a curse upon his back and with stardust so golden she seemed to shine.

When they combined, that shift within them clicked. Pieces sliding into place, so perfectly well that one couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. Leaving them breathless with a stone so light and so still in their hands that they barely noticed it.

Fluttering of a heartbeat in flight.

 

*

 

But no matter how far you might run, there is no escaping your past.

Sooner or later, it will catch up to you.

One way or another.

 

*

 

He smelled like death and decay.

Emily never noticed, only felt the scent of his cologne. But Lena wrinkled her nose, felt the _wrongness_ in the air as he stepped in. Sensed the danger and saw the lies of his magic, of his words before he even spoke.

“I am searching for a specific familiar.” His voice was raspy, hoarse in a way that made it sound like he forced out the words. “Tall, from another country. Powerful beyond your capability.” A pause. “He is a good _friend_ of mine and I believe he passed through here.”

 _Lies_.

“I apologize, but I do not know of such a familiar,” Lena answered before Emily could, smiling politely at the man. “I can, however, recommend other familiar for you, if you’d like.”

Silence lingered in the air, Lena not budging with her gaze. Wondering what the man would do and daring him to try something. Ready with magic at her fingertips.

And then the man spoke without a hint of remorse. “That is most unfortunate. I had hoped you could… _reintroduce_ us once more.”

 _Lies_.

 _All lies_.

“Again,” Lena said, taking a step in front of Emily, arm holding her lover back. “I do not know of the familiar you seek.”

At once, the air shifted around them. And even though the man didn’t move, Lena felt the threat in the air. It was a try of willpower, standing just as still and staring down the man.

 _Daring_ him once more.

For seconds, it felt like time came to a halt. Those seconds turning into hours before the man finally turned and walked away, disappearing with the shadows he brought.

“Call Angela,” Lena spoke with a haste in her voice, her legs trembling and gaze never leaving the entrance.

Because even if she felt like collapsing on the floor, to pull Emily into a hug and never let go, she knew she couldn’t. There were lives at the stake here, and they couldn’t possibly wait for the safety of warm hugs and reassuring words.

“And tell her that a Reaper is searching for Genji.”

 

*

 

Angela received the call.

It made her heart beat faster with fear, a coldness in her limbs as she clutched the phone tighter.

“We will be fine, do not worry for our sake,” she told Lena. “A man of similar purpose entered a few weeks back, I have already put up wards around the shop. I will do everything in my power to keep Genji safe.”

And although Lena argued that it was a Reaper, that nothing good will come from a man carrying Death upon his shoulders, Angela still smiled. Because she had someone precious to protect.

She would rather walk through the fires of Hell once more before she let any harm befall him.

And yet when she told Genji about it, worry spread in his chest. Not for himself, but for her. They were the same, couldn’t possibly let anyone be harmed because of their own mistakes. She tried her best to calm his fears, chased them away with gentle kisses upon his cheeks, through trails of stardust upon his skin.

“There will always be people who desire power and those who use others to gain it.”

But she listened to him, creating even more wards around the building, spells to chase any evil away and to banish the darkness before it could enter.

They slept in a tight embrace that night and the nights that followed.

 

*

 

It was only a matter of time before the news reached Hanzo. A single slip of the tongue by Jesse, a lunch abandoned. Hanzo the first to start running again.

The bell above the door chimed as he entered, spoke without waiting for a greeting and without giving an explanation. “We need to leave.”

“What?” Genji blinked, counted himself lucky that there were no customers for the moment. “What do you-“

Hanzo cut him off with a fury in his voice, masking the fear underneath. “I heard about the man who searched for you. The _Reaper_. And we need to leave _now_.”

Genji looked at him like he was mad, and perhaps he was in that moment. Because Genji didn’t know, had never seen the power of a Reaper himself, had never attended those meetings Hanzo had been forced to, the ones where the oldest son was introduced to the clan’s contacts. Of politicians and corrupted police and assassins. Only knew that a Reaper sounded like something bad.

Couldn’t possibly know that they carried Death upon their shoulders, a single touch enough to claim your soul.

It was a curse.

A specialization of the dark arts, a magic so foul it corrupted the wielder from within.

“I can’t,” Genji said, shaking his head slowly, taking a step back from his brother. “I can’t leave Angela.”

“You don’t understand! This is the only way to protect you! To protect _them_!”

And Genji stood his ground. “I can’t leave her, not when she’s brought me happiness the way she has. Not when she’s made me feel safer than I’ve ever been since that night. Not when I lo-“ He cut himself off, shook his head once more as he looked at Hanzo in disbelief. “Are you really willing to leave Jesse? To _abandon_ him so easily?”

There was a pause in the air, guilt flashing by in Hanzo’s eyes, a nerve struck by Genji’s words. And he looked away, refused to meet his eye.

“It is easier to not think of it.” A deep breath. “I promised to keep you safe, and safe you will be. But we need to leave. We need to _run_.”

“And then what?” Genji looked his brother over, saw the regret and the guilt he carried, the strings he tried so desperately to ignore to keep them from breaking, to allow him to flee. “We just keep on running and hope they never catch us? Or do we run until they do? We can’t live a life of fear. _I_ _can’t do that_. Not anymore.”

“What else should we do?” Hanzo all but roared back, and perhaps there was a bit of dragon in his brother as well. “We cannot stay here and wait for the Reaper to return! Only Death awaits you here!”

Genji wished he could roar just as loud, wished he could trade his skin for scales, wished he could ensure the safety of everyone around him just by himself. But the truth was that he couldn’t. He was only a familiar, born with magic and yet unable to use it.

But he knew those who could.

“You wish to protect me, but nowhere am I as safe as when I am with Angela. _With my magus_.” He paused, took a deep breath, breathed in the scent of white chocolate and dripping honey, drew strength from such a simple thing. “I can’t leave her behind, and I refuse to do so. If the Reaper finds me, I have nothing to fear. I won’t run anymore.”

Hanzo looked like he had been struck. “You are willing to throw your _life_ away for _her_? There are _plenty_ of other magus out there!”

“Of course I am!” Genji shot back, took a step forward, spoke before he could think. Words he had been so afraid to speak before, falling from his lips with such an ease and such a truth behind them that he almost scared himself. “ _I love her!_ ”

And as soon as the words passed his lips, he froze. In front of him, Hanzo stared wide-eyed at him, couldn’t come up with anything good to say. And just to the side stood Angela.

Angela, with the most loving look on her face and Genji decided that it didn’t matter if the Reaper stole his life the very next day, if only Angela would look at him like that just a while longer. And she walked up to him slowly, as if she too wanted this moment to last, her stardust cascading down her body and drawn to Genji. Twirling in the air before settling upon his skin.

“Oh, how I’ve waited,” she whispered, tears in her eyes, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, holding onto him as if he was about to disappear. And he hugged her back, holding her close to himself as he breathed in her scent, the one underneath white chocolate and honey. The scent of her shampoo, of strawberry and lime, the fading scent of spices from their dinner and the light sheen of sweat in the summer heat.

She pressed closer to him as he whispered against her skin, “I love you” over and over until he was sure the stardust would carry his words, until his lips were covered in a golden glitter. And she laughed, bright and brilliant and sweet, kissing a trail down his jaw, breath ghosting over his lips and there was a needy whine in the back of his throat because _oh how he had waited_.

Hanzo cleared his throat.

There was a snap back to reality, yet still clutching onto each other as if to keep that anchor to something sweeter. Stared at Hanzo as if just remembering that he was still there.

“Perhaps you are right, Genji. Even if I can’t see it,” he spoke, voice low and gaze averted, refused to look at the couple for reasons that were all his own. “Let me know immediately if something, _anything_ , happens.”

“Do not fret,” Angela answered, magic in her voice and stardust on her lips. Spoke with an authority and a certainty only a magus could have. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

 

*

 

Weeks of silence followed.

No darkness came knocking on their door and no Reaper was sighted.

In that silence, they started to relax. It was such an easy thing to do, and yet so very dangerous. But who could possibly blame them, when both had thought that they would never be allowed to experience love once more, and now they could reach out for it and hold on with a warmth unmatched. With fluttering laughter and smiles that were no longer shy, of secure hugs and stolen kisses.

In that silence, they began to become whole. Something familiar fluttering to life within the chest of a dragon, the light burning on his back so easily dismissed as Angela trailed her lips over his tattoo, breathed beauty onto his skin and created flowers from their pleasure. And he decided then, a fleeting thought he would never have again, that perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be human after all.

In that silence, they learned once more what it meant to love another. To be more than just a magus and a familiar. Stardust drawn to Genji and lingering upon his skin, magic of dark chocolate and the first rain in spring slipping into Angela’s soul. Becoming magical, golden beings together, a memory of ancient times.

Remnants of stars.

 

*

 

And in that silence, darkness finally found its way in.

 

*

  
They carried the scent of dusk and nightmare. Roses and midnight.

The bell above the door never chimed as they stepped in, darkness on their shoulders and magic heavy in the air. And Genji stumbled back from them, eyes wide with fear as he realized just what they were.

“Oh wow, we spend weeks trying to break those wards and we don’t even get a welcome?” One of them said, shaking her head slowly, grin splitting her lips. “How rude of you.” 

With desperation in his throat, Genji was just about to call for Angela, a warning or a plea for help, just anything. But the magus in front of him waved a finger, and when she spoke, his voice was lost.

“ _Be silent_ , no need to cause a ruckus.” A pause, an afterthought. “And _be still_ as well.”

And Genji froze in place, felt the shackles of spoken magic against his skin. Tried to struggle, but found only a tremble in his fingers. The magus approached him, familiar just behind and amplifying her magic, and Genji’s blood ran cold as he saw the black stardust upon her cheeks and in her hair, as he realized just what kind of magus she was.  

 _Word-maker_.

One of the darkest and most dangerous magus there were. 

“Now, now, don’t glare at me like that,” the magus said, acting as if she was deeply hurt. “Just come with us without any more fuzzing around and this will all be over quickly!”

There was a sound back in the shop, soft steps down the stairs from their home, Angela’s soft humming amongst the sweet scent of cookies. And the magus before him chuckled at his desperate try to _move_ , to speak, to warn her of the strangers. Because he felt it in the way his bones trembled in her presence, the way the air was heavy with their scents, the way his own skin blackened with ashen stardust drawn to him.

They were not just dangerous.

They were accompanied by Death itself.

“Aw, worried for your little love?” The magus mocked him, looking over at the stairs. “Would be a shame if something was to happen to her, don’t you think?”

And oh, if only he had been able to change, to regain his shimmering green scales and sharp teeth and even sharper claws, if only he could break her magic through the power of his own.

If only.

“Genji?”

The clatter of a tray, and Genji wasn’t even allowed turn to look at her. Couldn’t see the fear in her eyes, the fury that seemed to burn within her as she took in the scene. Only felt the way the world around them _rumbled_ , only felt when she took a step forward, a danger in her voice that made his very core tremble.

“ _Don’t touch him_ ,” she spoke, stardust swirling around her like a golden storm. The very air _quivering_.

And perhaps if it had been any other magus and familiar before them, if it hadn’t been a Word-maker and if it hadn’t been magus so dark her stardust turned ashen, then perhaps they would’ve trembled along with the air. Perhaps they would’ve stepped down, shrinking into themselves at the sight of a Wish-maker in rage.

But they weren’t.

And so the Word-maker waved her hand at Angela, stealing away any power and any stardust around her, all with a single word.

“ _Sleep_.”

But controlling a powerful magus like Angela was hard, her own stardust and magic trying to fight the command. And Genji saw how she faltered, fell to her knees with wide eyes, finding Genji’s gaze and tried to hold on. Pushed herself forward on the floor, clawed at the wood and tried to get just a bit closer, fight just a bit longer. Eyelids falling.

The dark magus and her familiar looked between them, a grin upon the magus’ lips.

“How dramatic this is!” she said, slinging an arm around Genji’s shoulders, twirling her fingers in his hair. “Now, let’s hear your last words.”

At once, the magic which had stolen his voice was lifted, allowing him a deep breath. He felt a desperation when he realized that Angela wouldn’t be able to fight off the Word-maker’s command, that it had taken her by surprise. And Genji could do nothing to stop it.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed with a whisper, her eyes finally falling closed as a dreamless sleep claimed her.

A shadow began moving on the floor, rising tall to swallow them. The scent of death and decay surrounding them.

Stealing them from the small shop as if they had never existed.

 

*

 

Being surrounded by the heavy air of dark magus was almost overwhelming.

“ _Breathe_ , dragon,” the Word-maker commanded him, forcing air into his lungs and yet he felt as if he was suffocating. “Don’t be so dramatic! It’s just some nice and fresh air!”

The darkness around them laughed, magus with ashen stardust and familiar with venom in their veins. And it kept watch on them as they walked through the old ruins, faces in the moving shadows of people Genji had never seen before and of those he had seen during the matchmaking speed-dates.

Mahogany and cinder, and a man with rotten teeth stepped out to join them, smiling at Genji.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, patted Genji’s head as if he was but a dog. “Glad to see you weren’t too much trouble for Sombra and Amélie here! Wouldn’t have time to give you more nightmares! No sleeping before the ritual!”

And the familiar by their side gave him a glare that would’ve been able to kill if only she’d been born a magus instead of a spider. “Do not use that name.”

Immediately, he backed off, hands in the air as he disappeared back into the shadows. Only then did Sombra click her tongue, glaring ahead.

“I don’t get why the _Night-whisper_ was invited,” she said, a sympathetic look from Amélie. “After what he did in Japan, Reaper should’ve taken care of him.”

“Some sacrifices are necessary,” Amélie mumbled back. “Reaper deemed that his isn’t.”

A huff and they continued in silence, Genji unable to speak for his voice had been stolen once more. And although it wasn’t the same as that day of ashes so many years ago, he still felt a similar fear in his bones. His magic feeding off of it, swirling in the air and making it only a tiny bit easier to breathe as it chased some of the darkness away.

And he didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what they could possibly want with him. Dragon sealed away and unable to provide them with magic strong enough to break laws, and he was useless to them.

But then he was brought into a room with crumbled walls all around, ruins from a time long past when magic only flared in the souls of monsters, with darkness marking the ground in symbols and shapes he recognized so well. Symbols etched into his memory and never forgotten.

He tried to struggle, felt no sharpness against his neck this time, and therefore he _tried_. But all he received was laughter from Sombra as she had him walk into the symbols alone, had him fall to his knees. No longer cared if he was able to breathe or not.

Magus stepped out from the darkness around them, creating a circle without a closure, soft murmurs and whispers rising. The magic keeping his voice snapped once more, Sombra giving him a small wave of her fingers from the side.

“It won’t work,” he spoke through shallow breaths. “It has been tried before and it won’t work.”

At first, there was no answer, but then Sombra sighed dramatically, shrugging from her spot just slightly outside the circle. “You’ve heard of The Ashes, no?” A brief pause, barely waiting for an answer. “Heard it was a good time for people like us. So we’re simply going to turn back the time a bit, to when gods and monsters ruled the world. Nothing too astonishing.”

A shiver of fear ran through his core, realizing that Sombra wasn’t joking. That she truly believed that one of the ancient laws could be broken, just like the Elders had thought before them. But the laws were there for a reason, and just like life couldn’t be created for it wasn’t for a human to create, time couldn’t be rewound because time was but a human invention. A concept outside the boundaries of magic.

But even so, these magus were going to try.

No matter if they were tearing the world around them apart.

 

*

 

Silence laid heavy as they waited.

The sun moved slowly over the sky and just as it touched the horizon, the shadows around them moved once more.

And the Reaper stepped out.

The open room paused at his arrival, some bowing their heads and others averting their eyes in fear. And all Genji could do was stare, voice stolen by his fright as the air was overtaken by the unmistakable scent of Death. Through a mask of bone, the Reaper met his gaze.

He said not a word as he walked up to the circle, closing its end around Genji. Word-maker’s control slipping away and Genji moved, standing up on shaky legs and knew that he couldn’t possibly run. Couldn’t possibly fight without a magus by his side.

“Little monster,” someone called, wicked laughter in their voice as ashen stardust began picking up, defying gravity within the circle. “Just relax and let your fear fuel your magic, eh! Make it easier for yourself! We’ll bring you home to where you belong!”

A pause in the air before the soft chanting started, sounding like an ancient song of a language long forgotten. A language never meant to be spoken through the lips of a human. And the world began to swirl around him, the stardust picked up, feeding off the magic in the air before they settled upon his skin. Turning him as dark as a night without stars.

Where stardust had once torn at him, had stolen magic from his fingers while he so desperately had tried to hold on, the ashes around him now _chewed_ into his skin. Created cracks and wounds, slipped through and drew blood and pain before it latched onto magic.

Eating its way to his very core.

He couldn’t scream, could make no sound through the cloud of pain and shock, and there was a shiver in the air as darkness consumed him, ate through skin and curses alike, pulling him down through a vacuum only found in space.

Because he was a dragon, a beast of an ancient time. The remnant of a burning star.

In that vacuum, he belonged.

And in that vacuum, there was a fluttering feeling of _flying_.

 

*

 

Magic was at her fingertips, chasing away the last traces of sleep from her blood. Golden stardust returning to her skin.

“Are they down there? I can’t sense anything,” Lena whispered, a tremble in her voice even though she tried to be so brave. Had answered Hanzo’s panicked call when he had found the empty shop, Angela unconscious on the floor, the lingering magic of something _dark_ in the air. Had insisted on coming with them.

“There’s a strong magical presence,” Hanzo whispered back, gaze flickering over the ruins. “I believe they’ve cast a glamour; the ruins are not as empty as they seem.”

Angela rose from her position, straightened her back and flexed her fingers. Drew the power of the Earth around them, ready to go down the hill and save her familiar without hesitation. But Hanzo placed a hand on her arm, making her pause.

“They are many and they are powerful,” he warned, standing up as well, stardust flickering on his skin. Looked up to meet Angela’s cold gaze. “The Reaper is there.”

A nod, a soft “good” and then she began walking down the hill. Knew they had little time before Genji would be gone. Didn’t know exactly why they wanted him, only knew that some would do anything to gain power, even use the power of others.

She had been able to achieve wonders with Genji by her side. She didn’t want to think of what a dark magus could accomplish.

Lena and Hanzo hurried after her, hearts beating quickly, magic close and stardust closer. Would help where they could. But before they could come far, before any of them could taste Death in the air, there was a sound echoing through the air.

A core imploding on itself, through darkness and corruption. Kept alive through time itself, such a flimsy concept to begin with.

A roar cut through the air, shaking the very Earth. Sending a tremble through the core of every familiar, a shudder through bones of stardust.

“What,” Lena mumbled, clutching onto Hanzo’s arm for her dear life, “was that?”

And Hanzo answered, with eyes wide of wonder and fear, a shiver of hope and desperation in his soul.

“That was Genji.”

 

*

 

For a moment, Genji did not exist.

Swallowed by memories of old, reliving a night of ashes and Death, of pain and magic, his bones bent and broken into new shapes fit a monster. The form of his father meeting him in that storm, waiting to be given a life Genji held dear.

Chanting around him, faces of the Elders and he couldn’t make out Hanzo’s among them. A mask of bones looking back.

But in that memory, in that swirl of ashen stardust, came just a small flicker of gold.

Quick, barely there.

A thin shimmer of hope he didn’t dare for.

And the magus who could create life from his pain stepped in. A footstep falling, a complete stop of a storm around him, stardust lingering in the air and he blinked. Pulled from memory, body trembling as words held him in place.

Yet he saw her so clearly, in between the particles of darkness. A being of gold, so bright she could’ve been a star. No longer a burning remnant, but alive and breathing the wrath of an ancient goddess.

She stole the meaning of gravity, turned the world upside down.

A circle broken, darkness vanishing through her light, and golden dust found its way to his skin. Warm of sweet of chocolate and honey. The embrace of a loved one.

Genji relaxed, breathed in and felt fire in his lungs for he was no human, ashes having devoured bone and skin and curse. Leaving him no other shape but the one of a dragon. And the fire within him rose and rose, smoke slipping through his lips until he could feel the burn on his tongue.

And with a roar that crumbled the ruins around them, made them fall and crush those who did not move, he created magic.

A world of fire.

And perhaps that was what the dark magus had wanted. For after fire, only ashes would remain.

The screams fell on deaf ears, and although the fear still burned as bright as the fire in his stomach, he didn’t flee. Never took flight and tumbled down hills and mountains, awaiting Death before Life greeted him. Because she was already there, saving him once more. Split open the very Earth for him, a bottomless pit to swallow those who had hurt him.

The words binding him to the ground shattered, and he took flight, moved like he was born to do. Like he hadn’t been allowed to do for so long. Tail sweeping around him, sending magus and familiars tumbling into the open ground, some falling through the air and never to land, pierced by golden stardust that ate away the darkness from within. And he became the beast, the _monster_ he had been called since birth, ripping darkness apart with teeth and claw. Flames and light stealing its place.

They tried to fight back. A touch of desperation and a touch of Death against bright green scales that had once been pulled from his body, had grown back hard and strong. But a creature born from magic could not die from it.

The Reaper stumbled back, Death abandoning him as Genji opened his mouth and _breathed_. Disappearing back into the shadows along with those who still had some sense left, those who still carried the will to live.

Those who realized they could do nothing against two deities.

 

*

 

Dust lingered in the air, ashen and gold, swirling in the air as calmness fell upon a place of darkness. Soon to be stolen by a passing wind.

In that calmness, they saw each other.

There was a pause, and for a second all they could do was stare. In disbelief, because a magus of life had been but a simple Wish-maker, never in disguise and never realized for all that time spent together. In awe and wonder, that a dragon from so long ago had reappeared once more, on a faithful night of pain and ashes, chased away by blinding light.

She took a step forward, a hesitation in her steps with tears in her eyes. A soft whisper.

“I know you. I’ve saved you once before.”

And as she approached, as a warm hand was placed upon green scales, those scales and claws and teeth melted away in a shimmer of golden dust. Revealing not a beast nor a monster, but an equal. Eyes just as wide, love just as bright.

“It was you,” he whispered back, voice broken and healed through her presence alone. Stitched together so seamlessly one could never have figured he had once been broken at all. “Oh Angela, it was you. It has always been you.”

Fingers gently brushing her cheek, afraid that it was all a part of his imagination. But she leaned into the touch, wrapped her arms around him to pull him close, breathing into his skin and against his lips before they could breathe no more. Holding onto each other as if they would fall if they didn’t.

And between them, through relief and a love so intense it was unmatched amongst the stars, something new was born. White and shining from within.

A perfect harmony of magic and stardust melting together and becoming one.

 

*

 

Wind stole the ashes from the ground, erasing any trace of the ruins that might have once been there. Sweeping across the land of no ocean.

“Should we follow them?” a spider asked.

And a Word-maker answered, fingers curling around the dark dust.

“No, we already have our ashes.”

 

*

 

 _Wishes of Mercy_ was opened again a week later.

It wasn’t anything peculiar of the like, but rumor spread fast. Of dark rituals and magus with Death following close by, of fire and of a dragon. And everyone was just as equally curious of the new stone, white and small, yet with no visible stardust. Light to hold, the fluttering heartbeat of life within.

“I have never seen a stone like it,” Angela murmured as she held it up to the sun, couldn’t possibly see through it for the light from within it. “But it’s in perfect shape.”

And Genji leaned his chin on her shoulder, hummed against her skin, hadn’t let her go since they had returned. Now spent the evenings curled up as a dragon, wrapped around his beloved magus as they fell asleep together.

“The magic within feels strange,” Hanzo said, arms crossed over his chest. Standing close to his brother, afraid that he would lose him again, still learning how to trust. “As if it’s waiting.”

“It looks kinda like an egg,” Hana chimed up next, finger tapping her chin as she thought. Looked over at Lúcio who only shrugged, could tell no difference in magic he couldn’t feel. “Like an unborn baby bird.”

“Perhaps we can wish for something large,” Genji whispered against Angela’s skin and she leaned back in his embrace, sighing happily. “Perhaps something more abstract.”

And they all tried to guess what kind of stone it was, what kind of wish it could grant, a silent question if they could recreate it once more, when McCree stepped forward. Hesitated for only a second before he spoke.

“Would you mind if I gave it a try?”

The stone was given to the once familiar, and he cradled it close to his chest, eyelids falling closed. Thought for only a second before he made his wish.

A white glow, sudden and then gone, stone melting into his skin and never to disappear.

In his chest was a small heartbeat of magic.

The scent of sand and dust and cigar smoke spreading in the air, the undertones of leather and sweat after a long ride in the desert, the ruffling of wind in hair. And he fell to his knees, overwhelmed by what he had once lost, by what he had thought had been a _forever_.

Hanzo was by his side, hugged him close and whispered soft words of comfort. McCree looked up at his magus, tears in his eyes, a soft whisper of “can you feel it too?”

And he melted away, bones never bending and breaking, fur covering his skin and a coyote blinked up at them. Hugged close by Hanzo, burying his face in his fur and together they wept for the wonder they had been granted.

Angela met Genji’s gaze, and they realized what they had created. What they were capable of creating once more, capable of _changing_. They pressed close to each other, so close until their heartbeat fell in sync, as magic filled the air. The unique scent of Jesse.

Laughter filled any spaces left as he changed from human to coyote and back again. A wonder in his chest, created from love alone.

 

*

 

There is a small shop of wishes in an unimportant city of a country surrounded with giants laid to rest. In that shop, everyone is welcome. Those with stardust in their bones and those with magic tied to their souls, and those with neither and who are only looking for a _taste_.

The Wish-maker and her dragon can offer any stone imaginable. Large and with stardust frozen in waiting.

And for those special customers, with a core once removed and with a longing in their souls to feel whole once more, there is no extra fee for the white stone of magic and stardust. Tied together as one.

They allow you to see the wonders of what could be, of what can be created from a thought alone.

So come closer dear friend, you who can’t smell magic in the air and can’t see stardust upon skin. Think long and hard, and once you are certain;

Make a wish.


End file.
